Of Knight & Death
by Kyer
Summary: Angels sent on a mission soon get embroiled in a vampire community and it's intrigues. Can they save a soul while stopping demonic forces? Non-graphic violence & sexual innuendo. No romance. Nothing explicit. Nick & Andrew friendship. 7/24/09
1. Introduction To The Dance

**7/23/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

**This story was met with a lot of trepidation when I first posted it at the TBAA site. Only one reviewer became a huge fan. The others fell away before they could learn that FK was no Dracula or Hellsing and rather overlooked the fact that their show also featured demons on occasion and that my story treated the show's angels with great respect. Ah well. Wach-ya goin-a do?  
**

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_A/N: This story was originally published by me as Kyer en Ysh on Dec-01-00 at the Official Touched By An Angel Fanfiction Forum. A recent check there showed that all stories that were placed there two months from when I finished this were deleted. Why I don't know. But currently, you will not find this story anywhere else on the net. _

_This story is by far the longest thing I ever wrote. **(before writing Justice League) **Even without authors notes or other commentary, it came to almost 900kb. A lot of that kb is devoted to memories (or flashbacks-- as Forever Knight liked to refer to them as.) There are a few of Nicholas's memories I threw in just because... but most have some impact either on the plot or as insight into the characters. Still, if you wish to skip them, you possibly will continue to figure out the plot as it develops._

_Lastly, this story is rated by me as PG-13. I am not terribly familiar with rating systems; however, this story is about a conflict between angels, demons, and vampires. Here there be acts of violence and sexual innuendoes. I'm not fond of grossness myself, nor is this NC-17, so there will be no graphic sex or buckets of blood and gore. Eh... okay, maybe bottles of blood. I mean... vampires do drink the stuff. –laughs-_

_Special note to those who reviewed what were originally chapters 1 thru 21, but now 1thru14: Because I had to redo where the parts ended, some of the review answers I give will not necessarily match the post numbers in 's review area. Sorry about that. It was just too much time to go back and fix that as well._

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Chapter One: An Invitation to the Dance

The loud music was playing at full steam when a tall man with shoulder length, golden-blond hair suddenly appeared to one side of the dance floor, immediately followed by a petite woman with longer, dark hair and doe-like eyes. They quickly stepped even more to the sidelines to avoid the assorted gyrating dancers.

Nervously glancing about, the young woman stayed next to her companion's side as if they were stuck together with glue. Though much older than she looked, she was still relatively new to her job and somewhat naive as to what was happening behind 'closed doors'. She recognized the music and decor as being what her supervisor had described as 'gothic', but other than that she felt very out of place amidst the crush of exotically dressed people with their black lipstick and/or neon spiked hair.

Her male escort--a man with boyish features to match his equally gentle eyes--smiled reassuringly at her as he glanced around for someplace more private for them to sit. Though he was much more knowledgeable about the seedier side of humanity, that knowledge had not corrupted his spirit in the least. He felt nothing but pity for these poor people dancing the hours away---even as he kept close guard over his younger friend.

"Andrew," the slight woman bit her lower lip as a Mohawk-haired Punk wearing studded leather jacket and a dog collar leered suggestively at her, "are you _sure_ Tess said we were to meet her here? And dressed like this?" She unconsciously tugged at her black knee-high dress even though it was far more modestly cut than anything the other patrons were wearing.

A single look from her escort sent the leathered Punk rocker looking elsewhere for a 'dancing' partner. Her friend smiled again at her as she clung fiercely to his arm. Delicate fingers crinkled the otherwise impeccably smooth silk of his black metallic shirt, which blended in quite nicely with the faux lizard-skin vest, patent leather pant boots, and linen slacks--all in black tones with only dark metallic to relieve the monochrome clothes as they shimmered in the club's lighting.

Monica had to admit that he looked really good in the ensemble, but she was just not used to seeing him in dark clothing, let alone black. Normally he wore casual clothes while on assignment, or his pristine white suit while on 'active' duty. These garments seemed to shroud him in darkness--like the sudden eclipsing of the sun's light in shadow--and she shuddered a little at the thought, quickly discounting it. There was not the least bit of darkness in her best friend. Andrew was the kindest and most gentle being she knew. When in his true form, God's reflected light radiated from him.

"Don't be afraid, Monica," the tall man soothed, patting her hand until it relaxed. He could sense her unease, and could guess at the causes, but it wasn't for him to question God's judgment. This was where they had been sent--it wasn't their place to question why. "Look, there's a table." He quickly walked her over a seat and sat down beside her on the outer edge, 'guarding' her physically from the other patrons with his body, like the gentlemen he was. She rewarded his thoughtfulness with a tentative smile. A white coaster sporting an icon of a black bird with wings aloft caught his attention and he pointed it out to her. "See there, it says "The Raven". We're in Toronto,"--he shrugged while wearing a teasing grin on his face---"and this definitely looks to be a nightclub. I'd say we're right on target."

"Oh. I was kind of hoping we'd been bumped off course or something." She shrunk in her seat and edged even closer to him as another pair of blatantly kissing and outlandishly dressed humans wandered by their table. "I don't much care for this place, Andrew," she confessed, her anxiety bringing out her lilting accent even more.

Her companion gazed around them. There were chains hanging down from the ceiling. A _distinctive_ painting of a woman was hanging over the bar. He hurriedly averted his gaze.

"It does lack God's graceful touch," Andrew agreed, "but I've seen worse."

Monica gulped a little at that, sure that her friend and coworker was not stretching the truth. For one, he--like herself--was an angel of God. For another, whereas she was just a recently promoted caseworker trying to help people back on God's path, Andrew had already been serving the Lord as an Angel of Death since the American Civil War when he, too, had been a caseworker. This meant that he was sent into all kinds of places and nightmarish situations in order to escort God's human children into Paradise when they died.

She was certainly glad that the gentlemanly angel had been chosen to 'escort' her now on this case. Monica didn't even know the details of it yet, and already she was getting goose bumps!

Andrew gave her a one-armed hug. In his heart, he was a bit nervous himself. There was something odd about this assignment. Something familiar, but which he couldn't quite put his finger on. And it wasn't just their surroundings either. Inside, he felt... strange.

"Don't worry, Monica. Under all that black makeup and crazy dress, they're the same lost sheep of the Lord's as your other assignments. Everything will be fine." At least, he hoped so. Frowning, Andrew brushed a hand over his forehead, a slight grimace tugging at the corners of his mouth. A presence loomed over him, and he found himself looking upwards into the sultry, full-lipped smile of one of the club's waitresses, several empty glasses balanced on the tray she held in one hand while she leaned over to 'adjust' his shirt collar with the other.

"My, my... _you're_ new, aren't you?" she breathed, winking at him. "Don't go away, handsome; I'll be right back after I take care of these empties." Straightening back up, she sniffed rather disdainfully in Monica's direction. "Maybe you can do the same with _yours_."

Monica didn't know whether to be angry at the woman's insulting demeanor towards her, or laugh at the flabbergasted expression on her friend's blushing face. "What was that you were telling me, Andrew?" she smirked after the waitress had left them.

"Um... well..." Andrew started to laugh alongside her despite his embarrassment at the waitress's attentions, realizing how funny he must have looked to his friend with his mouth hung wide open in astonishment. "I hope I can let her down easy."

"Just tell her that you can't date anyone without the approval of my boss. One look at your chaperone, and she wouldn't look twice in your direction."

They both giggled a bit, wondering what the woman would think if she knew she had just been flirting with an Angel of Death who had one very motherly--and bossy--friend in Monica's supervisor.

Two heads jerked to attention as a rather annoyed 'humph' sounded from close by.

"Tess!" Monica exclaimed rather guiltily, blushing deep red as the very angel they had joked about appeared at their table.

The large, black woman sat down opposite the pair and proceeded to waggle a finger at them as if they were her own children; which in a way they were for Tess was Monica's supervisor, guiding the young angel on her assignments. She tended to think of the Irish angel as her 'Angel Baby', and since Andrew was often as not helping Monica too, well, he was her 'Angel Boy' as well. She loved them dearly... but sometimes they made her one very exasperated angel.

"Don't you give me that innocent look, Angel Boy," she warned Andrew, who was doing his best to keep his mirth hidden behind his clasped hands. "Didn't I warn you to keep a low profile in this place? Yet here you both are---giggling away like a pair of Mad Hatters."

Andrew immediately sobered. "Yes, though you didn't say why."

"And it wasn't Andrew's fault, Tess," Monica asserted. "That...vamp... was pretty brazen." Monica missed the slight start her supervisor gave at her words. Before anyone could say more, the waitress in question had returned. Her beautiful face wore an unappealing pout as she spotted the addition to the group. Sighing, she reluctantly got down to business---but not without trying to catch the golden man's eyes in the hopes of flirting some more. She addressed the two women first.

"Hi, I'm Alma. What'll it be?"

Somewhat taken aback by the surly attitude---didn't this establishment care about good service?---Monica started to ask for her favorite drink. "I'd like a mocha--"

"Two glasses of water for us," Tess broke in, gesturing rather pointedly between herself and Monica.

"But, Tess..." Monica began.

_"Water,"_ her supervisor sternly repeated. Her caffeine-addicted charge meekly shut her mouth.

Waiting through the exchange in a bored manner, their waitress rolled her eyes before turning to Andrew, suddenly all warm honey again. "Two glasses of tap water and one complimentary House Special for the gentleman." She blew Andrew a kiss before departing for the bar.

Confused, Andrew started to rise from his seat to stop her. "Miss, wait a moment--?"

Tess grabbed his arm and firmly indicated he should retake his seat.

"But, Tess---I didn't ask for any of their wines," he protested. "Water will be just fine for me, as well."

"No it won't, Baby," Tess told him, her expression sad, "not for awhile, anyway."


	2. A Sheep In Wolf's Clothing

**7/23/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

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Chapter 2: A Sheep In Wolf's Clothing

Andrew tried to make sense of her cryptic reply, but couldn't. He was finding it increasingly hard to think. Ever since they had arrived at the club, he had been feeling slightly odd, and now it was getting worse. It had started as a slight headache from the terribly loud music. Now it had gotten so bad that he even imagined he could hear the rythmatic _thump-athump_ sounds even though the band had taken a break five minutes earlier. But what was really bothering him was the incessant aching in his stomach, like strong hunger pains. Yet, just looking at their nearest neighbors eating some snuck-in food made him feel a little nauseous. There was also this annoying tingle along the gums of his top canine teeth. Surely he wasn't getting sick? He felt none of the usual physical weakness (as compared to his angelic form) that wearing a human body always brought on.

"Andrew?" Monica questioned him, a worried look on her face. "You look kind of pale. Are you feeling all right?" She laid a solicitous hand over his and was surprised at how cold his skin felt. And Andrew wasn't answering her, his eyes closed and mouth set in a tight grimace as if he was in pain. She turned to their superior and gave her a look of distress. "Tess? Something's wrong with Andrew!"

"He'll be fine, Miss Wings. What he's feeling right now is necessary for his assignment in this case." But the look on Tess's face belied her words. She was just as concerned about their mutual friend as Monica was, though Monica sensed that she wasn't saying all she knew. She would just have to wait till Tess decided to tell her. But, oh, Father, it was hard seeing her friend hurting so and not knowing how to help.

"_My _assignment... _what_..assignment?"---Andrew coughed to clear his throat of the unnaturally deep timber it had suddenly taken on---"What are you talking about? I'm just here for Monica...aren't I?" Andrew tried again to think. He hadn't known he had an active part to play other than in keeping an eye on his friend. Was this body ill--- maybe fatally so? Could he be playing the part of one of the humans with AIDS? Maybe his assignment was infected and having trouble dealing with his coming mortality, so Andrew was to help him this way--by knowing just how he/she was hurting? He wished the odd drumbeat would quiet down so he could pray.

"Here you go," the returned waitress smiled at him as she set his drink down: a dark crystal wine glass filled with a deep red liquid. "And if you find that isn't enough to _satisfy_ you, Mr. Big & Handsome, my offer still stands." She set down the two ladies plain water glasses as if in afterthought before gliding away to attend the other customers. Tess noticed a dark haired woman in fashionable dress gesture for their waitress. It was obvious that she was asking about their little group.

"Andrew? Baby, I know you're not feeling yourself just--" Tess paused, seeing that her 'Angel Boy' was not listening to her.

Andrew found himself suddenly fixated on the drink before him. It smelled absolutely delicious. And yet he couldn't bring himself to touch it as that same aroma was setting off alarm bells in his mind. Why? It was only red wine. He did not partake often, but red wine could not hurt him. Could it? Or was this really wine? There was something familiar about the odor...

"Tess...Tess, this wine is mixed with--" He couldn't seem to quite work his mouth around the word. That was probably because there was something _in_ his mouth that hadn't been there a moment ago. He delicately felt around his upper palate with his tongue.

Oh, God!

"Drink up, Andrew," Tess told him with a compassionate look. "The Father says it's all right to do so."

"But its... it's.."

"Yes."

"But, Tess! I can't possibly drink this! God said that man shouldn't--"

"That's right, honey, but..."---Tess squirmed a little in her seat, suddenly unable to look him in the eye---"this is a _special_ case. And anyway, the Father promises that he will take care of it."

The transformed Angel of Death looked away from the drink in his hand by sheer force of will. He speared the supervisor with a demanding look, determined to get answers. God, Himself, knew that he would willingly go and do whatever his Father directed him to do---so why all this hemming and hawing from his dear friend and silence from his Maker? Tess looked nearly as uncomfortable as he. Andrew decided to ask Jehovah directly---and discovered to his horror that he was unable to pray. No... he could still pray, but it was as if someone had cut his connection line. There was silence at the other end. Not even a comforting presence.

Nothing.

Zilch.

He found that far more unnerving than even the substance Tess was saying he should drink.

Andrew wasn't even aware that he had zoned out on his surroundings until he felt the edge of the crystal glass nudging his lip. The metallic odor was transformed even as it connected with his tongue---much to his intense relief as he was sure he would have vomited it straight back up again. Of course the Father would not force such a substance on him! He knew how much partaking of such a thing would have distressed his angel. Berating himself for his lack of trust, Andrew took another swallow. Before he knew it, he had drained the glass dry.

It had been the most exquisite liquid he had ever tasted, satisfying him as nothing else had before. Even the aches in his stomach and head had dulled. It tasted of Love and Comfort: The Grace of the Lamb. However, his color perception was now skewed: everything was amber yellow in tone. And his mouth... his upper mouth still held...

Fangs.

Next to Tess, Monica gave a little gasp, her eyes wide. Andrew could well imagine what he must look like.

"I'm not..."---he swallowed hard---"_human_, am I?" The black woman gave a small shake of her head. He nodded slowly, trying to shake off the growing anxiety he was feeling. The sense that _others_ were watching him. "What am I, Tess?" he asked, still trying to deny of what he _knew _to be the truth. Wishing he could beg off this assignment and knowing he could not let God down like that.

"Oh, Andrew... Honey," The older angel's voice nearly cracked. "You're a _vampire_."

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**A/N: Yeah, this is where the traditional TBAA crowd ran for the hills. Guess I can't blame them too much. I mean, a vampire Andrew would be...unorthodox. lol Eh...onwards if you're inclined.**


	3. Introductions

**7/23/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

* * *

Chapter 3: Introductions

_"A what?!"_

Monica instinctively recoiled away from Andrew and towards her supervisor, an action that was not lost on her friend. The hurt on his face made her want to give him a comforting hug... but... she just couldn't quite bring herself to do so. With golden irises flecked with red and the tips of two upper fangs peeking out from his lips, he looked so... so _feral_."

Before anyone of the group could say anything more, a beautiful ebony-haired woman appeared at Andrew's side. Monica and Tess realized that this was the same woman that had spoken to their waitress, and the knowledge came to them that the lady was the club's owner.

"Drink this," the woman practically shoved another filled glass before Andrew before turning towards the female angels, ignoring the way her gift was greedily being consumed behind her back. Monica could sense that the proprietress was seething with anger, but doing her best not to show it.

"You've both had a pleasant evening, but now its time to go home," the owner informed them with a curiously intense stare. "Everything is normal here, but the atmosphere is not quite what you're accustomed to, so you doubt that you'll be back."

The cordial, yet firmly spoken words shocked Monica, who was ready to argue despite her own desire to vacate the premises and never return; however, a warning kick from under the table bade her to be silent. To her surprise, Tess calmly repeated the woman's command with a blank face, tugging Monica out of her seat and up the stairs before the younger angel could protest. In less than a minute they were both on the street and heading towards Tess's parked car. In a blink of an eye, both were back in their angelic form.

"Tess! What's wrong with you?" Monica demanded. "We can't just leave poor Andrew in there! He needs a doctor---or...well, _something_!"

"Yes, we can, and just did, and to paraphrase a quote from one of them: Betty Ford doesn't take vampires," Tess countered. She checked to make sure nothing had happened to her precious Caddy while in this questionable neighborhood. Seeing the Irish angel's consternation, she gave her charge a sympathetic look. "When a vampire tries to whammy you, it's best to play along unless the Father says otherwise."

"Whammy?" her student blinked. What upon God's green Earth was a '_whammy_'?

"Hypnotize," Tess explained. "As angels we're what they call 'resisters' to their power, but right now we mustn't let them know that."

"Them? You mean...Tess! You mean that place is full of--" Monica's eyes went wide as she realized the Raven was not just a Goth club, but a bar for _bloodsuckers_. Feeling somewhat sick, she followed her supervisor's gesture to get into the passenger seat. Tess turned the ignition and pulled out on the street, driving towards a suburb on the outskirts of Toronto proper.

"Yes, Miss Wings, but not everyone there is of that particular...lifestyle. That's why it was important for us to leave without making a scene. Doing so might have endangered the human customers. Not to mention putting Andrew in a tough spot."

"But how can there be vampires, Tess? I thought they were just a myth. Why haven't I seen them before?"

"What makes you think you haven't?" Tess challenged. "These beings have turned camouflage into an art form---had to in order to survive." She smiled reassuringly at her protégé.

"Angel baby, there's a lot you haven't encountered yet. Just because we're usually sent to help humans doesn't mean there isn't more to God's creation. And, yes, that includes vampires---the poor things." She caught Monica's surprised look. "You heard me right, Miss Wings---don't be so quick to judge," Tess admonished, ignoring the fact that she wasn't too fond of being amongst them either. Father knew she'd rather baby-sit a bunch of snakes if given the choice. Angel of God though she was, there was just no getting around the fact that parasites in any form held a 'gross!' factor. "Vampires are by no means candidates for religious sainthood," she continued in a softer tone, "but they aren't the demons they are made out to be either. Oh, they suffer from the Deceiver's curse all right---and in a more noticeable way than most; however, no more so than any sinful human. Some are prone to pure wickedness, while others are quite--"

"But _Andrew_, Tess...?" Monica felt compelled to interrupt the lecture. Though she found this new information fascinating--if in a horrifying sort of way--she was really worried about her friend.

"Andrew will be fine, Baby, once he gets over the shock of actually being one of them," Tess comforted. "This isn't the first time our Angel Boy has met the Night People, you see." She turned onto another street. "Now listen carefully and I'll explain your assignment while I drive. Another young and foolish person who thinks pretending to be a vampire is the coolest thing on earth. Goths!" Tess sighed. "Poor things don't have a clue to the reality of what they are playing at."


	4. The Daughter

**7/23/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

* * *

Chapter 4: The Daughter

Back in the Raven, a certain Angel of Death, was getting a quick primer on The Night People's society (the 'Community' as they called it) via the 'blood' in his drink.

_Sort of like having an entire race's life pass before my eyes_, Andrew thought fuzzily as the snatches of information flashed by, augmenting what little he had already known about vampires. In his head, he heard the voice of his Father explaining to him things he would need to know.

_My beloved Angel, this is how the Night People share in the experiences of others. By drinking another's blood, they obtain a connection to the life they forsook and with each other._

"The Life is in the Blood..." Andrew remembered.

_Yes, Andrew. And the blood cannot lie. Remember that as you walk amongst them..._

Father..? Who is it I am to help?

_One who is very precious to me. Have patience with him, Andrew, for he has been hurt very deeply..._

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Andrew had been so preoccupied with talking with the Father and the sensations he had been receiving from the second drink (contents again thoughtfully replaced by the Creator of All), that he didn't even realize that his companions were no longer seated at their table until his eyesight had returned to 'normal'.

He frowned, looking around for Tess and Monica, only to see that he was surrounded by strangers. Some were watching him with curious eyes; some with hostility.

"Where..?"

"You're little playmates had to leave early," the aristocratic woman who had given him the second glass stated with a stern look. She aimed the same displeased expression at the surrounding onlookers, who quickly bowed their heads and went back to their own business. With a gesture of one hand she bade him follow her into a back room filled with radio broadcasting equipment and music tapes; a small plaque proclaiming The NightCrawler hung from an empty spot on the wall. No sooner had Andrew stepped inside than another man joined them---one of the security guards, Andrew guessed. Strange...both the man and the woman made him feel a tingly sensation that was hard to describe, but definitely there. Come to think of it, while still in the bar, the feeling had been much stronger. Was this some part of being a vampire? Being able through a 'sixth sense' to detect the presence of one's own species? He sifted through some of the information God had given him and realized this was exactly the case. Not only that, but he could tell that the man---male---was twice as old as the female. He also realized that his own 'aura' was significantly more powerful than either of the others.

Age equals power and authority.

Andrew gave a quick prayer of thanks to Jehovah for giving some leverage to work with. Vampires did not look kindly upon weakness within their own. Disability was seen as a _liability_ to the group's survival. But as an 'ancient', he would be granted much more leeway than a young vampire. That was good considering he had accidentally committed a grave 'sin' by _vamping out_ in a public place---and before mortals too. Not that the vampires would know that Tess and Monica were no more human than they.

No sooner was the door closed behind the three when the lady vampire crossed her arms in front of her chest and began to roundly upbraid him in a mixture of English and Archaic French, fangs flashing while her companion stood stoically beside her.

"Stupid! How _dare_ you act so irresponsibly in my club! Openly hunting like some newborn fledgling! What if one of the mortals had seen you? Just because you're an Ancient does not give you the right to ignore the Code and put this Community at risk. Do you realize how many young ones need this place for shelter and what will happen to them if the Enforcers close it down? To come in here half out of control--!"

Sheltering young ones? Andrew smiled. This fiery lady must have soft spot in her heart if she was taking in orphans. Not having a master to protect you during your first few centuries was viewed by many of the elders as a 'weakness' since untrained vampires could betray their existence to the human world through sheer ignorance.

_And some teen-aged humans fantasized that being a vampire was to be able to exist without authority or rules to live under? Naive.  
_

"I'm sorry," Andrew whispered, knowing she could hear quite well.

The sarcastic tirade faltered as the dark vampiress blinked at him.

"What?"

Smiling contritely, Andrew repeated his apology. "I assure you that it won't happen again, my lady. I just didn't realize how long it had been since I'd last ea-- um..._ fed_," he amended _eaten_ at the last moment, remembering that vampires never referred to their blood consumption as anything other than 'feeding'. "Please accept my humble apologies and thanks for covering for my lapse. I did not mean to put you in such a compromising position." He offered his hand while bowing before her, "My name, by the way, is Andrew."

"Janette DuCharme," the vampiress smiled back in relief and not a little confusion. When she had brought him into her sire's broadcasting booth, she had not expected the stranger to act so... cordially. What rare experience she had with Ancients other than her own master was that they tended towards displays of pompous arrogance, confident in the power gained from having survived for well over a millennium. Indeed, was not her 2,000-year old father, Lucien Lacroix, an example of the same behavior? Managing to survive for so great a time from the humans who hunted them, fires both wild and orchestrated, beheadings in saber duels---she supposed they considered it their due to have the younger ones bow to them. But here was this vampire---who felt even older than the Elder of this city---accepting her rebuke and _apologizing_ to boot!

She accepted his hand and received a gallant kiss on her own.

"That is beautiful name. French, isn't it?" Andrew's face lit up in pleasant smile, blue eyes crinkling merrily. "You look like an exquisite French flower, milady, carved from the finest ivory and ebony."

"Oui, I was born in Paris," Janette confided, flattered by his charm and sensing that his words were spoken honestly. Merci, but this one was a prize. No wonder Alma had tried to latch onto him so fast. He was like some sort of twin of de Brabant's: all gallant knight. Though he was far too old to have lived as a chevalier like her brother had done before she'd lured him into her sire's family... Janette found herself wondering if this Andrew's blood would taste as sweet on her tongue as her Nicholas's did. Nicholas was like tasting forbidden sunshine--a veritable rainbow of unbridled passions--that is when he wasn't consumed with that hideous guilt complex he refused to let go of. It was that very quality of enthusiasm that had caught her master's attention---and which made him refuse to give the knight up no matter how much trouble he caused her sire.

Hesitantly, she reached up to caress his throat while baring her own in invitation.

"Um..." Andrew stuttered and wondered what to do. To be sure, he had no wish to offend her again, and it would be a lie to say that the vampire nature he had taken on did not feel drawn to her. But... sharing in a bloodkiss would be to reveal his true self.

_--------------------Flashback: Florence, Italy 1535 A.D.-------------------_

Andrew sighed. He knew he was failing his caseworker assignment--and failing it badly.

His supervisor had sent him to advise the young lady Amelia---the daughter of a wealthy merchant---who had fallen head over heels in love with a strange, blond man who only came out at night, and whom after meeting, the daughter would return infused with happiness---yet mysteriously lacking in energy to the point that she spent most of the next day in bed. Sensing that something was not quite right with this unseen beau, Andrew had tried to dissuade her from going out again, but she had refused.

"I thank you, kind Andrew, for your concern," she had told him, "but my heart belongs to Nicola, and I will not give him up even if it be for my life. I can think of no better place to be than in his arms; yea sir, I would gladly die in them."

She'd snuck out again that night, and he would have gone after her, but his supervisor had forbidden it.

"It's the bloodkiss. By letting a bit of his pass to her, he's shared in his blood his need to possess all that she is. She's become too enamored of the vampire's love for her, yet does not understand its true foundation. Nothing you or anyone else can say will keep Amelia from offering herself to him this last time."

"Vampire, sir?" Andrew had asked in confusion.

"Humans who have been infected by a virulent microbe that turns their hosts into blood-drinking parasites," his supervisor had explained. "It also gives them mental and physical abilities far beyond their original ones."

"They are of the Enemy?" Andrew frowned, remembering his--thankfully--rare encounter's with Satan's demons.

"No. They still have whatever conscience they had as mortals; however, subconsciously, they know they have fallen from God's grace even more, so they react to holiness like a demon would. But they are not demonic themselves. Think of them like you would a pack of wolves. Close knit family-units that hunt upon the fringes of their prey's herd, only occasionally risking moving within its center."

"And the Father allows this?!" the Andrew had exclaimed in disgust, wishing as soon as he did so that he could recall his words. He had not meant to sound like he was judging the Father.

"Andrew... I know it seems distasteful to us, who are sent to guard the Flock; but you must remember that to the Father, they are also of that Flock, simply a different variety. And most did not choose their circumstances willingly: they are as much victim's of the Deceiver as Adam and Eve. If Jehovah did not grant them his regard, do you think Satan would have hesitated this long in consuming their souls and binding them with his demons? I warn you in all earnestness that should the Enemy ever gain control of one of the Night People, the Angels of Death will have a hard time keeping up with the carnage."

He looked pensively in the direction Amelia had gone.

"Poor souls... they think they are sharing love. But neither understands what true love is. Nicholas's is but instinctual need; Amelia's is merely infatuation."

_--------------------------End Flashback-----------------------------_

A mere two years ago, Sam had confided that the nightmare his former supervisor had envisioned had almost occurred not once, but twice. A 2000-year old vampire, long imbued with pure Evil, had broken loose from her imprisonment and started a killing spree within the Toronto Community. Only another family member had managed to end her madness. Coincidently, this same vampire had, just months earlier, been possessed by the demons named '_Legion_' for a short period. Fortunately, God had worked to set the stage beforehand so that this vampire had gotten the help needed to free himself of Satan's claim.

It would have once seemed strange to Andrew that God should have used a vampire to stop evil---why not send warrior angels instead? But the Father seemed pleased to work through them occasionally, and Andrew had seen enough circumstances of vampire ethics to trust God's judgment. Barbaric in some areas, they could be remarkably 'Christian' in others...like the People they were still tied to.


	5. The Elder

**7/23/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

* * *

Chapter 5: The Elder

However now was not the time to be musing on such things, Andrew decided as he noticed that her 'bodyguard' was silently eying him from his post in front of the door...and he still had no idea of how to politely decline her invitation.

Seeing Andrew's hesitant look in her employee's direction, the lady vampire dismissed "Merlin" with one word, and then waited expectantly for the 'ancient' to take the first bite.

Fortunately, Andrew was saved from having to make up an excuse when the phone on the desk rang.

With a little sigh of disgust at technology's ill timing (as far as she was concerned), Janette picked up the offending device in one dainty hand.

"What is it, Miklos? I told you I would signal if-- Bridgette?"--concerned frown--"Oui, put her on, then."

Andrew watched curiously as the vampiress drew in a sharp breath, her fingers closing on the phone piece so hard he could see the plastic starting to crack under the pressure.

"Escaped?! Impossible! Sacre... Combien de temps? Alright, alright....I'll take care of it. Of _course_ he will be upset! Bridgette, calm down! I will reason with him. It's not like this hasn't happened before---he traveled with _Houdini_ for Mother's sake. Just go home and stay away for at least a week to...oui."

She set the phone down with a mumbled curse.

"Problem I can help with?" Andrew asked her diplomatically.

The proprietress started as if she had forgotten he was there.

"Er....non, Monsieur," she responded, appearing both flustered and distracted. Andrew got the feeling that she suddenly had no desire for his company. "It is a small problem, but one that needs my immediate attention. If you would excuse--"

Janette's eyes widened as her face managed an even paler tone. A second later, Andrew became aware of the return of a stronger tingle, one slightly more powerful than the guard's had been. Another second and the doorway slammed back as a dark blur blew into the room like a meteor. Andrew instantly found himself pushed back against the far wall and suspended several feet above the floor. He looked down to find himself in the grip of a red-eyed vampire male with very short blond hair---and very sharp looking fangs. '_Enraged madman_', the angel decided, was not even close to describing his attacker.

"WHERE IS HE?!!! RETURN HIM_---NOW---_OR BY THE GODS, I WILL RIP OUT--!!"

"Lacroix!" Janette exclaimed.

"Attend to _your business_, Janette. I will take care of _this_," the infuriated assailant spat out a rumbling sound that rivaled that of an adult lion's building from his throat as he bared his teeth even more.

"But, Lacroix," Janette moved to stand just behind the other, yet out of arm's reach. "It is not what you think. Monsieur Andrew was just apologizing to me."

"Apologizing?" The reddish eyes slowly flecked into an amber hue, harsh with suspicion as they burned into Andrew's. "_Apologizing?_" he hissed, eyes narrowed to slits.

"Ye...ess." Andrew hoarsely managed to squeeze out. He felt himself lowered until his shoes once again rested on the floor. The terrible grip left him, and he rubbed the bruised area, even though it was already fading as his enhanced immune system repaired the damaged tissue at hyper speed.

"So... _Ahndrew._.." the male vampire drawled the name in a derogatory manner, his hands drawn into such tight fists that droplets of blood were falling from where his nails were cutting into the palms. "You are of an advanced age. Pray tell...what apology can so ancient a one give---FOR KIDNAPPING ANOTHER'S CHILDE!"

Kidnapping?

"I don't understa--"

"_LIAR!_"

Andrew gulped. Apparently, respect for age meant nothing when a paterfamilias thought you were coming between him and his offspring.

The vampiress inserted herself between the two, imploring the other with her eyes to calm himself.

"Non, mon pere!" she asserted. "Please! The ancient was here in the Raven before it happened."

"_Yesss_....I heard of that little debacle at his table," her father snorted. "Undoubtedly a ruse while he secreted my son away." He stepped right up into the dumbfounded angel's face, glaring menacingly. "I _know_ who you are...._Andrew_. And you shall not have him. It is not the time---do you think I could miscount the years? Another three decades by mutual agreement. You're _early._ Oh yes, I know. You thought I would not complain. I can picture him sitting in his oh-so-mighty high seat, _salivating._ Thinking to himself that General Lucius is in a weakened position. Discomfited by his own progeny. He will easily concede those years without a fight. Well, he is WRONG! And you can just hike yourself back to Joran and tell that miserable son of a harpy that I said so!"

Once again the other vampire's fangs were right in Andrews face, and this time he felt his own body respond to the challenge. Of their own accord, his newly acquired fangs descended and his vision took on a warm, golden glow; his senses detecting even the most minuscule differences in thermal energy that the broadcasting room provided. Snarling like a Siberian tiger spying a rival, he pushed the male away, sending him stumbling back several feet.

How _dare_ this upstart treat--!

_Andrew_

The faint rebuff from the spiritual bond Andrew had with his 'sire' was enough to awaken the Angel of Death to the danger and he offered a prayer of thanks to God for stopping him in time. The territorial nature of the vampire had risen up within him, eager for a fight. Human form, human emotions; Vampire form, vampire emotions. He would have to stay vigilant to keep the animalistic side of this body under control.

Feeling more or less himself again Andrew outstretched his hand towards the fallen ancient, offering to help him up, but was not surprised when his aid was brusquely ignored.

"I'm truly sorry," Andrew said despite that, "but I was telling the truth. I don't know what is going on and I certainly had nothing to do with your son's disappearance." He saw that the city Elder did not look very convinced of his words, but what else could he do but try to reason with him?

_Help me, Father..._

Again the phone rang. Janette lunged for where it had been knocked to the ground like it was a lifeline; hoping that the caller would have news that would keep the visiting ancient from killing her sire or vice versa.

_What was Lacroix thinking to openly challenge someone more powerful than himself head on?_ Janette wondered. _Stupid question._ She snarled impatiently at herself. The bond she felt with de Brabant as being one of the same bloodline felt dim---almost non-existent. As his sire, Lacroix would be feeling it stronger, but from the way he was acting, it must be very weak to him as well. This could mean only a few things: either Nicholas was unconscious, stuck in one of the trances he had a tendency to slip into ever since the...accident...or he was _dying_. Yes, it was no wonder the General was in such a feral rage. Only Nicholas had the power to upset him so: the solitary weak spot in his armor. One night, Lacroix's infatuation with that one would get him killed---and by the blood, had not Divia come so close in doing just that? Just what her master planned to do when the Interviewer came for her brother, Janette shuddered to think.

To her relief, the caller had just the sort of news she had been hoping to hear.

"Lacroix---" she happily blurted out, "he has been spotted by the lake and is unharmed. Feliks is with him now, but cannot get him to come home; he refuses to even acknowledge him. He thinks that Nicola left by his own power; his demeanor is the same as always."

The effect over her sire was instantaneous. Within a split second the monstrous visage had changed to that of a concerned parent. He practically tore the phone from his daughter's hand in order to hurriedly speak to the caller.

"Janette, you will stay here and prepare for our return."

"Oiu, mon pere" Janette gave a small curtsey to Andrew, "Monsieur," she added before leaving the room. The night air around Lake Ontario this time of year was very cold and if her brother had been sitting in it for almost an hour he would be thoroughly chilled by now. Not that the cold could harm them, but being warm was psychologically comforting. A hot bath would help bring him around. She would also see to it that several bottles of the Special Reserve---the vintages kept separate from those served to her mortal customers---were warmed to body temperature as well. Even if none of them could coax Nicholas to partake of it, Feliks and the other searchers would appreciate the offering.

A gentle prodding in Andrew's spirit bade him to speak up.

"Monsieur Lacroix, I will be coming too," he said with what he hoped was the right mixture of respect and command.

The Elder regarded him with open displeasure.

"This is not your affair."

"I'm sorry, but I must insist."

Lucien Lacroix, once General Lucius of the Northern territories in the Imperial Army of Rome, Butcher of the Gauls, shrugged his shoulders as if whatever the other did not concern him.

"As the Americans say, '_It is a free country_'. However, you will stay clear of my childe or so help me, I _will_ gut you."

Staring into the cold, ice-blue eyes, Andrew did not doubt it for a moment.


	6. The Son

**7/23/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

* * *

_A/N: This part contains a confusing bit where you enter a rather confused mind. To help keep you from getting too lost: Sentences bracketed with four periods{....} are from memories (mostly direct quotes from Forever Knight). Plain sentences are the vampire's and another(?) voice talking to him. Interspersed sentences with quotes are 'real' characters talking outside of the troubled vampire's mind._

_Clear as mud? _

_Good!_

_We now continue with your regularly scheduled fic._

_

* * *

_

Chapter 6: The Son

_Darkness and etchings of shadows flowing on the darkness of eternity;_

_iridescent creatures emerging and submerging without direction within nocturnal gases._

_Raindrops glistening with silver tears as they cascaded to their fate upon the waiting surface,_

_their individuality consumed by the ebony leviathan waiting for them._

_Eager for them... hungry._

_The shadows of the fallen reached out to embrace him,_

_to share with him their pain..._

_he screamed._

Nicholas de Brabant awoke with a start, panic filling his cobalt-blue eyes. Bloodsweat welling from his pores gave his skin a reddish sheen. Robotically, he took out a black handkerchief to wipe it away, a subconscious act borne of centuries of hiding his true nature from the unsuspecting humans he walked amidst. The dark cloth hid bloodstains admirably well. He tucked it back into a pocket.

When--_exactly_--had he nodded off? A shudder ran through him as he inhaled deeply of the night air of the park, thankful that the surrounding area was deserted. Breathing was unnecessary, but the crisp coldness helped to center him back into reality.

Just a nightmare--- a horribly unnerving one, but a dream nevertheless. Having mentally decided that it was time to get up and head home, the solitary figure found himself loathe to actually follow through with the necessary actions required for attaining that goal. So he stayed sitting on the worn bench, contemplating the ebony black surface of night-time Lake Ontario.

There was plenty of time yet, he reasoned. Autumn had already started and thus the nights were longer. Lots of time with which to fly home before the weakening sun struggled up again to send him into hiding just as it always did; because no matter how many centuries of endurance he accumulated, no matter how low the winter sun was forced to acknowledge Jack Frost's temporary reign---ultimately the fiery ball would send him scurrying for shelter like all the other nocturnal vermin.

_I miss the sun._

Wrenching his thoughts away from that depressing arena, Nicholas once more let his attention wander to the lake's surface: the dark siren that had sung to him so eloquently that he had felt forced to come.

Why did he have to? He'd forgotten why. But the call had been very insistent. The vampire sighed and ran his fingers through the wavy mass of blonde hair now slightly damp from his perspiration, his attention struck by the way the water moved.

The water lapping easily against the boundary of the shore, seemingly neither bothered by nor concerned about the restrictions placed upon it. But then, it was hardly a prisoner, was it? It eventually made its way to the Atlantic where it was free to merge with any of the seven seas; the lake itself constantly renewed by the lakes above...and the doomed raindrops that fed it.

How very like the vampire, Nicholas thought. Eternal and powerful---yet not _ALL_ powerful, as it was bound by land as the vampire was bound by the waxing and waning of the night. Nor yet immortal was the lake for its life was tied to the existence of the Earth itself. Continuously feeding from the hapless individuals--the raindrops--that encountered it, as well as the weaker that flowed to its...gravity of power; by that same force bound to relinquish itself to the hunger of a mightier....ocean......ancient...

And the nightmarish visions swept him up again, aided by memories he so wanted to forget...

Memories...like raindrops screaming.

Currents dragging forward against the will.

Jonah and the Whale: the hungry mouth opened and waiting to swallow...

_I have faith in us._

_....You've more than made up for what you've done in the past...._

_....It's not enough. It's never enough...._

_....Just take a little at a time...._

_....It's a lot more complicated than that...._

_....I'll take my chances...._

"There yo.. ..re! Nic.. talk w...me.."

_....Does Lacroix ever talk to you about faith?...._

_....Faith in what?...._

_....In yourself...In...I don't know. In who loves us no matter who we are or what we do...._

_....Faith is a mortal folly, Nat....._

_....Is that you speaking? Or Lacroix?...._

**Folly. Foolish knight. You're lost, you know.**

_....You have faith, Nick...._

**You failed. A _failure_.**

_....And if that's a mortal folly, then you are the most mortal man I know..._

_....I MADE you!...._

_....What you made was a mistake!...._

_....I'm not you, Lacroix...._

_....We are each other ...You ARE me...._

_....Then I am a monster...._

Monster... Beast... Murderer. What godly command not broken? How many times?

_....I believe in you. I trust in you. Make love to me, Nick...._

_....I'm afraid of what might happen...._

_....I trust you...._

_....I won't leave you. Whatever happens, Nat, we'll be together..._

**Liar**

No!

**Yes.**

I tried!

**Failed.**

Leave me alone!

**Give in.**

I can't.

**You will...**

No!

**Eventuall**y.

"Lac...anette...erlin..Every...ne ..looki...or..you. ..ought you.."

_....Oh, Nicholas... You've thought this through... haven't you?...._

_....I took too much..._

_....Lacroix... is it possible for a vampire to have faith?...._

_....I've seen too much...._

_....Well then, maybe I haven't seen enough...._

_....We must move on. You cannot deny what you are...._

_.....She had faith in me-- in what lies beyond. That we could have a life together...._

**Foolish Nicholas.**

Shut up!

_....Don't be foolish, Nicholas._

_Life is a gift._

_As sweet as the freshest peach._

_As precious as the gilded jewel._

_I have never understood the logic,_

_of willfully surrendering such a treasure._

_What is there to gain?_

_How dark can your existence be_

_when compared to an eternal void?_

_Or do you have faith?_

_That there is something beyond?_

_What do you see from where you are?_

_A bright light at the end of the tunnel?_

_Is it a ray of hope?_

_A glimmer of something better?_

_Or will it burn you like the morning sun?_

_Are the sounds you hear the trumpeting of Peter's angels?_

_Or the screams of men's lost, tortured souls?_

_You can't answer that, can you?_

_Because you will never know the answer,_

_Till after the deed is done._

_And is your faith really that strong?_

**Father? But you _killed_ him.**

_...Via de Diablo!..._

No! Lacroix!

_...Really, Nicholas. Did you think I would be that easy to kill? I'm far too old and powerful for that..._

"Yes, Ja.. He...dreaming , De Bra..nt.. come on ..op your eyes...i..me.. Feliks."

_....And so in yours eyes I'm the devil...._

_....No....Not the devil, Lacroix...._

_....What then?...._

_....You... are my closest friend...._

_....Damn you, Nicholas!...._

"De Brabant...can you hea.."

PAAAAIIIIIINNNN!!!!! FIERY... WHITE HOT... AGONY! GET. IT. OUT!!! _GET IT OUT!!!_

_

* * *

_

He really liked flying, Andrew decided as he followed Lacroix's dark form through the sky. It was definitely the best part of being a vampire. He was almost disappointed when the elder dropped down upon a park that bordered the icy waters of the Great Lake, practically free-falling in his rush to get down. Then Andrew heard the terrible screams, and likewise pushed to get down as fast as possible.

Near the edge of the water a figure with black hair that hung well past his shoulders had draped his own body around that of another, blond-haired man, clinging to him desperately as the latter spasmatically thrashed about. He looked up as Lacroix alighted nearly in their laps, face pained as his captive continued to wail in the vampire's sensitive ears.

"AAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!"

"NICK! Lacroix---thank goodness you're here! I can't get him to calm down!"

The Elder gestured with his chin, and they swiftly exchanged places, his greater strength better able to control the afflicted male's unconscious actions.

Dark eyes considered the camouflaged angel as he took a position between the familial pair and Andrew.

"May I help you, Sir Ancient?"

"No," Andrew told him, unable to take his eyes off the troubled vampire that Lacroix was rocking and murmuring softly to. He looked about 35 years of age, but his aura was more like several centuries. '_Perhaps a bit younger than Janette?'_ He also seemed vaguely familiar.. "I only came in case I coul--"

"Thank you for finding him, Feliks," Lacroix rudely broke in. "There will be a case of my finest waiting for you at the Raven."

Not a fool, Feliks glanced between the two powerful beings and decided it was best not to ask questions---and better yet not to stick around at all when the Roman was in this mood and clearly wanted you gone.

"Thank you, Elder, you are most generous, he bowed low. "However, if I may take a raincheck? I was in the middle of tending my orchids when Bridgette called---some mortal hoodlums broke a glass panel during the day, and I have much work to do to save what I can. I really must return to them," he added anxiously, hoping the other would make no more demands on his time.

Lacroix offered him an indulgent smile by way of acceptance. He would have preferred the financial wizard to stay as he was a good friend to his son, but Feliks, a devout flora enthusiast, had his mind on his own '_children_'. He would not be happy until his plants were taken care of.

"Thank you, sir," Feliks bowed low. "And when he feels better, tell Nicholas that I have made sure all the Brabant Foundations charitable contributions are up to date, the monies sent where he wanted before... well, before," he stammered, seeing that the Elder was preoccupied with his own problems. He gave the sobbing vampire a wan smile.

"Farewell, Nicholas."

Feliks then left, giving Andrew a wary eye as he lifted up and left the trio alone.


	7. What Child Is This?

**7/23/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

* * *

Chapter 7: What Child is This?

Andrew shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. His compassionate heart cried out to help the younger vampire, but he knew the elder would not allow it. As with so many of his past assignments as an Angel of Death, he would have to be patient and wait. At least it was unlikely that this case would require him to witness his assignment's death.

Father, please, Andrew asked pleadingly, what is wrong with him?

_Grief and great fear. Eight centuries of sorrow weighing upon his mind. His conscience refuses to let go his burden, what he thinks is his punishment from Me. My child cannot comprehend that I am willing to bear it all for him. He believes I mean to condemn him to the Enemy._

How can I help and tell him the truth if the sire won't let me near? Andrew asked, remembering the look in Lacroix's eyes and the feel of cold fingers pressing upon his windpipe when the Elder had been squeezing the angel's throat.

_Beware, Andrew, Evil desires my child for Itself, and means to take him. You must be vigilant._

Lacroix, Father? Is Lacroix the evil you speak of, Father? The angel shuddered. He could well imagine that one in league with Satan. There was so much violence in him, so furious a rage. Surely he must be akin to a demon?

_Lucien Lacroix is mine as well. Look with my eyes, my angel, and see them as I do._

As he was bid, Andrew studied the pair huddled on the ground and tried to look at them as God did. Warmth suffused him and suddenly he could feel what they were feeling.

Drowning, drowning, drowning. Darkness wrapping itself around him, poking and oozing as it tried to find a way in. Nonononono! He couldn't let it! Natalie! What would Natalie think if he gave in?! Lacroix! Where was his father? Had he finally been abandoned? Got his wish? No! He didn't mean it!

**(Lacroix does not want a failure for his son. Lambert is dead. With me. Give in, and you will keep your promise to be with her.)**

With you..? No.. God would not talk with such as me. I am damned.

**(You would defy your God? Give yourself to me, you miserable wretch!)**

"Nicholas!" a familiar voice burst through the angry demands.

An anchor against the tenacious pull of the water drowning him in memory and pain? He gripped at it, but its hard surface cut into his hands. This had hurt him before. Hadn't he ran from it for hundreds of years? He should let it go. But... the dark water--he was so afraid of the dark waters. Endure the pain or the terror of the deep current...?

"Nicholas! Mon enfant, mon coeur, listen to me! Center on my me."

The mesmerized vampire blinked slowly, as if making up his mind which was more real, the water with its not-quite-there shapes and cruel voice? Or the other voice, also demanding his obedience?

"Nicholas, pay attention to me---this instant."

He could almost hear the water protest as he dutifully turned his attention from its inky depths in order to attend to the more familiar, though equally demanding, voice.

"Lacroix?"

Nicholas looked up questioningly into the stern face of his maker, feeling the anger as well as concern leaking through the elder vampire's being. It didn't matter. Lacroix would protect him from the water. He was safe from the siren now. If only he could forget...

Whimpering piteously, Nicholas buried his tearful face into his father's neck in order to sink his fangs into the soft flesh over the jugular, greedily sucking down the cold blood that spurted into his mouth. Feeling his sire stiffen, he grasped him tighter, afraid that Lacroix's momentary display of affection was over and that he would be pushed away, but the older vampire merely shifted to give him better access.

Unfortunately, even an ancient could only tolerate so much blood loss, and after a minute, he _was_ forced away.

"Nicholas? Are you feeling well enough to fly home now?"

"Tired," came the mumbled response. "So...tired."

"Of course you are"---gentle stroke on the forehead, a mental command to sleep pushed through the bond---"We will discuss this later."

Ashamed, Andrew realized that he had let outwardly appearance and his own limited perspective color his views. The love of father and son for each other was intense, just clouded by fear and uncertainty.

Father, forgive me, he prayed. I thought I had lost my bigotry, but I see now that I have been blind.

Without warning, Adam appeared at his side in angelic form, invisible to anyone but his fellow Angel of Death. He frowned at the vampires, but his eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"General Lucius of Pompeii---who now calls himself Lucien Lacroix---was not raised in a loving home or society, Andrew," he began by way of hello. "His father was brutal to him; His mother only there for a short period of his life. He lived a mortal lifetime in loneliness with only the soldiers under his command and prostitutes for company as he expressed his anger by ruthlessly cutting down all that opposed the power of the Roman Empire. When he sired a daughter through one of the latter, custom dictated that he not acknowledge her as his, yet he loved her dearly: his Divia. But she fell to the Enemy. I was her caseworker."

Andrew swallowed. It was always hard for them to speak of past failures, and he empathized with his friend's anguish.

"Oh, Adam, I'm so sorry."

"A vampire claiming to be a healer changed her when she was dying of a sickness. But she did more than become a vampire..."

Pained eyes gazed at his sympathetic friend as Adam looked away into the horizon.

"She was my assignment. And she chose to embrace the Beast, Andrew. She wanted to be like her illustrious father, victorious over her enemies, unstoppable; so she willingly took in a demon who offered her power. Then the demonized girl offered her sire to share eternal life with her as Mt. Vesuvius erupted around them. He accepted. But the demon was not content to have just the daughter, it wanted Lucius as well, so it made a very indecent proposal to him. But to Lucius' credit, the demon miscalculated the General's depravity. He was so horrified by what she had asked of him, that he beheaded her and entombed the body in Egypt. He thought she was dead, yet the demon allowed her to live through the millennia in that tomb, Andrew--waiting--until grave robbers accidentally freed it. Then it came looking to avenge itself on him by destroying everything he knew. _Everyone_ that she/it learned was his friend and was there in Toronto. She left Nicholas for last, because it knew he was the most precious to the Ancient. Thanks be to the Father that it failed and was destroyed."

Turning back to Andrew, Adam sighed heavily.

"But all of this scarred Lacroix, Andrew. As Nicholas has trouble accepting forgiveness, Lucien does not know how to express his love in God's way. His fear of being alone and unloved forever made him terribly possessive of his children; as his son, Nicholas bore the brunt of it. The son of a Roman man was expected to behave as his father saw fit--unmoved by emotion--subservient to his sire's every whim without question. Yet Nicholas grew up in a much different environment: one where emotion was freely expressed. He could not subdue his inborn lust for life to just those times and levels that Lacroix wanted---so it was their views clashed terribly...

_---------------------Flashback: 1920's Europe-------------------_

_Sam and Adam watched unseen as Nicholas de Brabant walked along an alley happily clutching a plain, wrapped package. Suddenly there was a whooshing sound and he hastily jammed the bundle inside his open jacket. Lacroix appeared and confronted his son:_

"Where have you been?" he asked in a deceptively pleasant voice.

Nicholas looked slightly nervous as he evaded the question.

"Walking."

"You cannot lie to me, Nicholas. You are not capable."

The elder stepped closer, blocking off Nicholas's escape with his sheer presence as he repeated his question. The younger fidgeted a little, clearly trying to hide the package under his jacket and the elder noticed this.

"What is that?"

Nicholas swallowed and looked away.

"I will not ask you again."

With a resigned air, the former knight reluctantly handed over the package to his sire, waiting while his father looked over the bundle.

Lacroix chuckled softly as he indicated the confiscated item, "Ancient medicinal herbs? Rare Chinese elixirs?" At last the layer of pleasantness begins to fade away to show the true foundation of disgust underneath. "Nicholas still searches for a cure," he growled before tossing the bundle to the ground. Nicholas' eyes followed it with longing, but Lacroix stepped even closer. "Why didn't you just tell me you had been to the apothecary's? We've no need for secrets between us."

Without warning, the elder reared back and slapped his son hard across the face, his eyes and fangs bared.

"And this is how you thank me! _This_ is how you repay me!"

Nicholas found himself pushed closer to a brick wall; Lacroix's close proximity taking away any possibility of escape.

"This has nothing to do with you, Lacroix."

The words are hardly out of his mouth before he was lifted up and rammed against the bricks, pinned to the man-made surface by strong hands grasping his lapels. Adam and Sam could see that Nicholas was frightened of the other's explosive anger and half expect him to fight back as they have witness him do many times before---usually resulting in the knight being beat to a pulp for his defiance; however, he continued his subservient demeanor by holding himself limp, doing his best not to arouse his sire's rage any more than it already was.

"OF COURSE ITS TO DO WITH ME!!" the elder roared. "I gave you life! I gave you power! I gave you my eternal protection! And now...you want to go _back_?! CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW THAT MAKES ME _FEEL_!"---The amber eyes glowed with his indignation---"You will stop this pathetic search for a cure. You make a fool of yourself and a fool of me. You are my creation, Nicholas, made in _my_**__** image!"

Eyes half closed against the demonic visage of the Roman, Nicholas nearly sobbed: "Then I... am a monster."

Letting his grip falter, Lacroix winced as if he had been stabbed: a devoted parent stung by the words of an ungrateful child. He took a step back, eyes once again their normal ice blue, but his voice infused with pain.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

Eyes on the point of tears, Nicholas' own voice was laden with sorrow.

"I did nothing to you, Lacroix. You did this." Visibly steeling himself, he continues, "Perhaps there is no cure. But that won't stop me from trying. Kill me if you wish, but either way...I will leave you."

With that, Nicholas walked away, leaving the ruined bottles where Lacroix had tossed them. The ancient watched him go, but his own features hardened as he softly declared under his breath: "Never."

Sam looked over to Adam, and they both sighed. God wanted these two to reconcile, for their own sakes and for the safety of the world. But would they _ever_?

_---------------------------End Flashback------------------------_

"We've kept tabs on them ever since the Enemy made his interest known," Adam told Andrew. He ruefully rubbed the back of his neck, "and it hasn't been pretty to watch. Do you know Lacroix even got jealous when a dog befriended his son? Had it turned and left Nick to do the dirty work when it went mad from blood hunger and had to be destroyed. Poor Nick was devastated. If Sam hadn't stopped me, I would have..." He paused to give a rueful grin. "But then the old bastard would do something really 'fatherly' like save his life when some charlatan 'healer' Nick had subjugated himself to turned out to be more of a disciple of Mary Shelley's Dr. Frankenstein. His behavior certainly makes it hard to figure out which team to root for."

"Okay," Andrew nodded, "I've gotten that impression already. And I understand the need for me to have _these_ in order to be accepted in their Community," he opened his mouth slightly to show the tips of the two fangs gracing his upper jaw. "But I still don't see what I can do here."

Adam, however, had his attention on something other than his friend's plaintive question. He looked up toward the sky with narrowed eyes.

"They're coming."

"Coming?" Andrew blinked at him before following his gaze. Even with his enhanced vision, he saw no one. "Who's coming?"

"Something that is truly Evil."

With that cryptic---and rather alarming message---Adam disappeared, leaving a bewildered Andrew alone with the vampires.

Lacroix was watching him with a suspicious eye. Frankly, Andrew had had enough of that look.

"Lacroix. I just want to help you and your son, but you act like I'm you're worst enemy."

The senior vampire snorted. "Don't pretend with me. I know who you are."

"That's fine...just great," Andrew exclaimed, letting his frustration show. If something really bad was heading his way, he'd rather not have to fight on two fronts. "Would you mind telling _me_ then? Because I haven't the faintest idea who I am in _your_ eyes."

His little burst of levity made the Roman lift an eyebrow in surprise. This ancient was not acting at all like he had expected; yet, why else would such an ancient be visiting Toronto? Perhaps this was a trick to throw him even further off-balance? If so, he would not fall for it. Clenching his jaw, he looked Andrew dead in the eye as he hissed:

"You...are the Interviewer."

* * *

_**Review Answers:**_

_**Magda1: **Yeah, it would take divine intervention to deal with the depth of Nicholas's angst. Nothing less would stand a chance. ;-P_

_**Louie Pastiche**: I appreciate readers, really. Though I mainly write because I want more of the characters I love and other writers aren't doing my kind'a stories. grins_

_**Elendil:** Yeah, Divia was one piece of work. Didn't like that episode myself... in fact the whole 3rd season was mainly the studio execs working to kill the show. #### them! _

_**Wanderer D: ** Save the praises for the end—if you still feel like giving them then. Then the embarrassing silence won't be such a shock to my system. Heh._

_**CAL: **Cool? And here I was going for hot. ;)_


	8. The Interviewer

**7/23/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

* * *

Chapter 8: The Interviewer Cometh

"Sir," Andrew informed him, "I assure you I am not this interviewer you speak of_._" At least the angel was pretty sure he wasn't, because he hadn't the foggiest idea what the Roman was talking about.

Very gently, Lacroix laid his son back upon the cold grass in order to confront the unwanted interloper face to face.

"You deny who you are?" Lacroix scornfully eyed the angel in disguise. "An Ancient whom I have never seen before or even heard of previous to your arrival comes to me unheralded. I have lived long enough to know the names of all the Ancients of our kind, _Andrew_, and yet—_yet_--I have never heard yours mentioned in that rank. That leaves only the High Council and the Enforcers---and you don't have the teeth for the latter. But for all your age, I sense a naivety in you. You're too uncertain of yourself to actually _be_ on the High Council. I have met two in my time---I know them. So...you're a junior candidate, being groomed by your sponsor in case something should happen to one of the Elite.

The Elder of Toronto began to circle around Andrew as he continued speaking--- like a shark judging the best place to bite.

"Ahhh...but the High Council has better things to do then harass wayward young ones. That's what their masters or---should they fail----the Enforcers are for. And they certainly have better stock on hand than anything even Janette has to offer. Yet here you are: an unknown Ancient taking an inordinate amount of interest in what is _mine_. And you would have me believe that you are here on a lark? That you are not and have never heard of the Interviewers? How stupid do you think I am?"

Andrew was about to try to explain---not that he had any idea what to say---when he felt a strong tingle and a gust of wind go by.

"Stupid enough, Lucius," a new voice said.

Both angel and Elder whirled to see a bald, imposing vampire snatching up the prone Nicholas.

"Kurkan?!" Lacroix looked surprised. He shot a quick glance back at Andrew before taking a step towards the other.

The bald vampire gave Andrew a courtesy nod before responding to the Roman, "So your memory hasn't totally failed you in your dotage, though still you profess to this other that De Brabant is yours." The newcomer's face seemed to split in half as the thin mouth opened in a wide smile, showing not only fangs, but the rest of his teeth chiseled to sharp points. Andrew shuddered, as the effect was not unlike that of Darth Maul's in those awful Star Wars movie posters.

"Nicholas _is_ mine. Unhand my son!"

"Tsk, tsk!" Kurkan reprimanded as he readjusted his hold on the knight. Nicholas---though still in the sleep Lacroix had put him in---was unconsciously struggling against his captor while muttering incoherently about 'dark water' and 'drowning'.

"You know very well that none of these brats you produce are yours to keep until my master says you may do so..."

"I know that it is not yet 2028, Kurkan---a little matter that seems to have slipped your mind. Or can't you perform simple arithmetic? Ah...but my apologies---they didn't have much in the way of _higher_ _education_ in your culture, did they?"

Kurkan hissed at the insult to his mortal beginnings, but did not as Lacroix had hoped, release Nicholas in order to attack him. The Roman's blurred form leapt into a newborn tree and came back, hovering above Kurkan with a freshly broken-off tree branch aimed at the bald vampire's chest. Roaring, he threw the make-shift stake. Instead of dodging, his adversary purposely moved his captive's body into the missile's path. It struck Nicholas in the back, nearly impaling his heart as its ragged point burst through the front of his rib cage and part way into Kurkan's shoulder. De Brabant's eyes flew open as he screamed in agony. Kurkan merely grunted as he removed the offending two inches of wood from himself; the wound healing almost instantly.

"Missed his heart again, Lucius? Your sense of aim needs work--that's twice in two years if what they say is true. However did you manage the rank of General with such lousy arm-to-eye coordination?" He snickered as the Elder's eyes burned a flaming red. "Still, with such shows of parental affection, perhaps it's just as well I came early---they do say that third time is the charm. Joran has been rather eager for my report on this one, and it wouldn't do for him to die at your loving hands. That would...upset him. Maybe I should, in fact, take him to Joran now for safe keeping before your aim improves."

"Hades take you first!" Lacroix spat out, diving at him. They rammed together, two upright tigers hissing and roaring as they bit and scratched at each other, both of such similar age and power that the battle could have easily gone either way.

Except that the Roman had the handicap of not wanting to further injure the seriously damaged body that his adversary was using as a shield: every movement drove yet more splinters into Nicholas bleeding insides. With his son's mental blocks down, he could feel each needle jab of pain as if they were his own. That being the case, Kurkan was able to subdue the General long enough to yank the branch from the son and implant it into Lacroix's abdomen. Twin screams rent the air as Nicholas felt the backwash of Lucien's distress sweep through his sire's own fallen mental shields to mesh with his own.

"_Lacroix!"_

Roaring in triumph, Kurkan pushed the branch down further so that it was anchored in the soil, smiling as his victim gurgled and clutched at the primitive weapon.

"Love has made you _weak_, Lucius," he told the writhing vampire, cruelly twisting the branch. "Think on that as you wait for the sun to rise and give you its _warm_ regard."

Grabbing the still screaming Nicholas, Kurkan hauled him to his eye level. "Time for us to leave and get acquainted, boy--- my master wants to know everything about you."

Nicholas ignored him, still screaming for his father as he vainly tried to reach Lacroix. Kurkan growled and shook him.

"Quiet, pup, or I shall begin the interview by simply biting off your overly active tongue and reading your blood in blessed silence!"

Andrew, meanwhile, had watched the whole battle in shock---the entire scene of carnage had happened in less than a minute. Sam appeared at his elbow.

"Andrew--_now_ would be a good time!" he encouraged the frozen Angel of Death.

"To do what?! I'm no Warrior Angel!" Andrew cried out in a near panic: Kurkan looked ready to deliver his threat to De Brabant's person, and he couldn't think of anyway to stop him. To shed his physical disguise and confront Kurkan as an angel would likely result in the other vampires being destroyed by God's reflected glory: they were far too weak to accept the presence of His power. "I escort souls, help Monica and Tess on cases---Sam, I don't know the first thing about fighting in _this_ form!"

"You're an Ancient _vampire_---for Jehovah's sake, Andrew---just _act_ like one."

Then De Brabant twisted his head away from Kurkan's bared teeth---and desperate but aware eyes locked upon his own.

Andrew remembered...

* * *

_**Review Answers:**_

_**Elendil: **Close Call... was the last episode we got to see Schanke in. After that the Powers That Be in TV Land decided he was too old and not good looking enough (balding, paunchy) despite the great character interaction and replaced him with Tracy Vetter. That's young, beautiful, blond, peppy, Tracy Vetter. (sighs) I missed Schanke. He was wonderful to watch. More fun and a great foil for Nick. Three years of episodes and you managed to catch as part of your handful Last Knight? 0.0 My sympathies! But it could have been worse. The studio execs had demanded a much more final ending, but the actor who played Nicholas (and directed that episode) refused to do it and left it more open-ended. Thank goodness or a lot of great fanfic speculation would not have been._

* * *


	9. Memories of Auld Lang Syne

**7/23/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

* * *

Part 9: Memories of Auld Lang Syne

_---------------------Flashback: 1228 Paris, France---------------------_

Andrew was enjoying himself immensely. For the first time ever he had been allowed to go down to the mortal realm---accompanied by another and more experienced angel of course; but that was all right since he really liked the dark skinned caseworker. They had become friends right away and Sam had sort of taken the younger angel under his wing---so to speak.

"So, Sam, tell me again just what it is you guys do down here?" Andrew asked as he gazed around the city with an air of excited curiosity. It was nowhere near as beautiful as his Father's home, but it was definitely different---exotically so. And he wanted to soak up as much of this experience as he could before he had to go back to his place as one of the Heavenly Choir. Right now, this was a 'vacation' of sorts.

Sam chuckled indulgently at his friend's behavior as they walked the Parisian streets. For all the comparative filth and dirt around them, Andrew looked like a young human boy drooling over a master baker's fresh patch of fruit pies. The young one was hooked, he could tell. It was in his eyes. In fact, he'd be surprised if the singer didn't start begging for more such outings. Make a fine caseworker, too---ever since he'd seen the more afflicted of the humans here, the good-hearted angel had been filled with empathy for their sufferings.

"We help our assignments onto the path of God, Andrew."

"It must be very fulfilling work. You have a _great_ job, Sam."

His friend looked a trifle rueful as he answered: "Usually."

"Usually?" Andrew gazed back at his friend with a questioning air.

"We don't always succeed." Sam explained. "You see, Andrew, the Father gave humans free will, and we must respect that at all costs."

"Free will?" the choir angel parroted again and frowned. "But I don't understand, Sam. Why would anyone _not_ want to follow God?"

Sam sighed. "Well, for one thing....we aren't the only ones down Earthside trying to guide them. There are...other... influences down here."

"Oh," Andrew murmured quietly, feeling as if a dark cloud had obscured the sunlight.

Sam was making a reference to the _demons_. Demons were former angels that left Heaven for a reason the young angel could not comprehend. Andrew had heard that they were down here--had been for some time, but it was hard to fathom that his once fellow angels could have fallen as far as rumor said they had. But then, like him, none of his friends in the Choir had ever actually been down on Earth before. They had only hearsay from the others.

"Look, Andrew---there he is!"

Sam's exclamation jerked Andrew's wandering mind back to the present.

"Who?"

"Sir Athos de LeBarre... my assignment."

Andrew followed his friend's pointing finger to see an older man with dark red hair and wearing a soldier's garments walking out of a local inn. His soiled and somewhat tattered tunic had a cross embroidered on it. A knight from the Crusade wars: he remembered Sam telling him that earlier. The fellow limped across to a group of three other soldiers in like garb, stopping before them. Sam watched them converse together, as a step apart, the fourth, a blonde-haired knight, held their horses together.

"C'mon," Sam gestured as he headed toward them, "just remember that I'm Samuel D'tienne a local healer and you are my visiting friend, Andrew Marsielle"

The red-haired knight grinned toothily in greeting as they walked up.

"Doctor D'tienne! You were right---this inn has enough room for all of us. And it is much more reasonably priced for God's poor, returning soldiers." He smiled at Andrew. "And who is this bright-eyed fellow with you?"

Sam placed a brotherly arm around Andrew's shoulders as he introduced him to the crusaders before stepping a few yards away to talk privately with his assignment.

Sir knights, this is Andrew Marsielle. Andrew, these fine gentlemen are Sirs Athos LeBarre, Gerard DuHugo, Nicholas de Brabant, and Victor Chantel. All have just returned from fighting in the Holy Land."

"A wet-behind-the-ears whelp, from the looks of him, Doctor" Victor, a heavily scarred knight guffawed.

"Oh, to be so innocent again," Gerard quipped, then winked slyly at his mates, "or perhaps not! It takes years of practice to gain a suitable gut for drinking."

"And you've had plenty of experience in that, haven't you, Gerard?" the scarred man pointedly swatted the other's considerable girth.

Loud laughter from all but the knight with the horses, who merely brushed his shoulder-length hair out of his eyes as a breeze played with its golden strands. The scarred knight poked him in the ribs, earning him a scowl of displeasure from the silent man.

"And what do you think of him, Nicholas?"

"Oui, oh mighty but sour-pussed one," Gerard laughed. "Give us your warrior's estimation." He winked at Andrew. "Nicholas here killed more of the devil's heathen in battle than any one of his company." Ignoring the continued grim look of their golden companion, he cajoled: "What chance has young Andrew, here, of making the king good knight material?"

Andrew felt his heart stir as dark cobalt eyes fixed on him. His face held no expression, yet the eyes held a world of hurt.

"None, if he is _lucky_," a resonant baritone of a voice softly decreed. Then without another word, he gave over his comrades' reins to the keeping of the scarred man and walked his horse towards the edge of town.

"Oh, don't mind Nicholas, Andrew", the Sir Chantel laughed. "He'll be in a better humor after he's had some ale to loosen up that smile of his."

Gerard did not look so sure. "I don't know, Victor. Our Nicholas has a lot on his mind of late. And you shouldn't have brought up the battle. Every one of his friends were killed in that."

"And we haven't seen our share of death?" Victor grunted. "It's homesickness---and probably a bit of just plain _sick_, yet. He's blessed to have survived at all. Those infidel prison holes I hear are worse than the fires of the Devil's kitchen."

"Don't make such jokes, Vic." his friend admonished. "If Athos hears you speak so, he'll have us both doing penance before the nearest church door!"

"Then we had better get our drinks in now, eh?" the other grinned. And saying goodbye to the angel in their midst, they left to leave their horses at the stable before entering the inn.

Andrew paid them no heed. He was much more interested in where the other knight had gone off to. Seeing that Sam was engrossed in discussing theology with Sir LeBarre and not wishing to disturb his friend's work, the vacationing Choir Angel decided to follow the lone knight.

-------------------o----------------------

_"Deeeaaah...Braahh..boaa..n.."_

Andrew shivered as the ghostly sound was carried to him by the wind. From his hidden vantage point as an angel invisible to mortal eyes, he could watch as his quarry stood quietly waiting beside his horse, the wind lightly tossing both hair and cloak as he looked this way and that as if expecting someone.

The ghostly sound came closer, and as it did a dark-haired woman in a flowing dress appeared.

The knight bowed in greeting as the lady glided over to him and lightly caressed his cheek.

"Sir Nicola de Brabant?" she smiled at him. "So...you decided to come back after all. Last night, you acted somewhat...offended by what I had to say."

"Last night, I did not know that Sir LeBarre, the most devout Christian, was dying."

The hand was gently but firmly removed from his face as he regarded her.

"My Lady DuCharme, I only wished someone to talk to this evening."

The dark woman sighed demurely as she half turned away, the moonlight giving her pale complexion a silvery glow. Andrew saw her cast a quick glance up to a rooftop. He looked up as well, and saw another pale figure with close-cropped hair smiling down on the couple. He gave a slight nod of... approval? And then...

Andrew blinked at where the strange man had perched. He was gone---just disappeared! How could a mortal man move so fast that even an angel had missed it?

"Talk? Why not talk about your crisis of faith with your companions then? Surely you have much more in common with them?"

Nicholas sighed heavily as she directed him to sit with her upon a low stone wall. "No. Victor and Gerard...they treat our faith as...I don't know...a joke. And Athos...well, Athos will not hear anything less than pure compliance with the Church and its teachings. Like as not, he would demand that I crawl to the nearest holy shrine on hands and knees if I told him my true thoughts." He looked shamefacedly down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs.

A slender, pale hand stilled the dueling of the two digits.

"And _you_, Nicola? You, a knight of God, hold neither such views? Did the battles for King and God not strengthen your religious fervor? It was a just cause, was it not?"

"No!"

The depth of feeling from the outburst nearly made Andrew jump.

De Brabant took a deep breath of the early night air; this time speaking a bit more calmly, but with a tremor in the tone.

"No. Oh, Janette, if you had seen it. So much killing---and not all, I assure you, done against the infidels. But I will not burden your tender ears with such tales of horror. Suffice it to say, that it was not what I'd expected." Blue eyes filled with tears. "How could God have wanted this? We fought so hard for Him. Died horribly for His cause---and He let..."

Laying his head upon his knees, Nicholas began to quietly sob. Janette leaned against him, rubbing his back in a consoling manner.

"You're friends all dead or dying, non?"---The golden head moved in acknowledgement---"And yet they had as strong a faith in your God as you. Nicola, perhaps your God is not worthy of your devotion. Think of it. Would you not rather live in pleasure now than wait for some possible Heaven with an untrustworthy God?"

"Janette," came a muffled protestation "You are speaking heresy again--"

"I am speaking only what has already passed through your own thoughts am I not, Sir knight?"

She rose in one fluid motion. "Tomorrow, de Brabant, I will be leaving with my father. If you wish to see me again, I will come to the inn in a few hours time and we shall share in a night of pleasure." She whispered into his ear, "Think on it, Nicola. Spend your remaining days in mourning of that which cannot be regained until you die slowly like your Athos... Or give up your silly and fruitless adherence to God's commandments and spend the nights with...me." She laid a light kiss on his uncovered ear, making him look up at her in astonishment.

"Tonight, Nicola."

With a slight smile, she glided away, as quickly and silently as she had appeared.

Knight de Brabant stayed only a few minutes more after the mysterious woman had left before he got up and mounted his horse. With a troubled look back to where he had sat with 'Lady DuCharme', the rider prepared to return from whence he had come.

An angelic-garbed Andrew secretly followed him back to the inn where Sir de Brabant inquired of the innkeeper the whereabouts of his traveling comrade-in arms, Sir Athos LeBarre.

"I'm sorry, monsieur chevalier, but your friend is in his room with his doctor. I was told not to let anyone enter, as Sir LeBarre is...well...very close to God just now, if you take my meaning."

Apparently he did. Squeezing his eyes shut, the blond knight took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, monsieur," the innkeeper commiserated. "Apparently his illness came on suddenly?"

Looking very weary, de Brabant shook his head, absently rubbing his upper right thigh as he replied, "No... He has been ill since his wounds that were gained fighting the heathen."

"Ah... Then perhaps you would care to join your friends as you wait?" The businessman pointed to one of his tables, where Gerard and Victor seemed to be involved in some kind of drinking contest.

Nicholas pursed his lips at the sight of the pair getting themselves drunk--- as if everything was all right with the world.

"No," he said-- and then admitted quietly, "I have no friends."

"But.. Sir LeBarre?"

"Is a distant relative only."

"It is a cold world to not have friends to share your sorrow, monsieur," the innkeeper noted, pouring out ale into a few tankards and smaller cups.

"It _is_ a cold world," the knight grimly agreed, eyeing the drinks.

Seeing his hungry gaze, the innkeeper handed him a cup of ale. "Have you no family to be with then?"

Nicholas got a far-away look of longing in his blue eyes as he breathed, "A sister and my mother."

"That is all?"

Scowling into his drink, De Brabant snarled at his own warped reflection upon the liquid's dark surface that was cast by the wall scones behind him. "An uncle," he conceded with a bitter tone. "But I think he would only be disappointed to learn that I survived." Downing the drink in one gulp, Nicholas turned to the owner, his eyes bleak as he handed the man a fistful of coins from his purse.

"For a table alone and as much of your liquor as it will take me to get _very_ drunk, or until a certain lady arrives. Whichever comes first, I do not really care."

The innkeeper pocketed the money, but did not look particularly happy to do so. "Very well, chevalier, you may have the table at the far end for the rest of the evening. But I think that you would be better served by visiting the prayer shrine just down the street. If you require anything else, just ask for me: my name is Adam."

Nicholas hesitated, then thanked the man and took another cup of ale from the bar before going to sit at his table. He steadfastly ignored Gerard and Victor's rowdy invitations to join them as he proceeded to down the liquid.

Andrew was in turmoil.

This young man needed help---good, angelic counsel---he was sure of it. And the sooner the better, too from the look of things; but as a Choir Angel of the Heavenly Host, the young angel wasn't sure how to give that kind of assistance.

"I'll go to Sam and tell him of this," he decided. "Sam will know what to do."

Making his way back to where he felt his friend was, Andrew appeared just outside of one of inn's guest rooms, where Sam was kneeling next to a gasping Sir LeBarre as he held the elder knight's hands in his own, Sam's body softly glowing with God's reflected Light. Both were praying in fervent murmurs. Just a few steps away stood another of their kind whom Andrew did not recognize.

"Sam!"

His friend didn't even turn to face him. "Not now, Andrew."

"But, Sam, its--"

Andrew found himself being quickly taken outside by the other angel.

"Listen...Andrew, isn't it?"

"Um...yes?"

"I'm sorry, but this is _not_ a good time."

"But..." Andrew bit his lip. If Sam was acting as LeBarre's' doctor, and Athos was as ill as the innkeeper had said, then this must be the Angel of Death come to escort LeBarre to God's presence. Andrew didn't know much of things beyond the Choir, but he knew the importance of keeping a soul safe until it could reach sanctuary with the Father. Neither one of these fellow angels would be able to help de Brabant.

Maybe he could do something then?

Yes! Andrew smiled happily. He would do it! He would talk to this Nicholas. Tell him the truth about God and Heaven! Excitedly---unfortunately, too much so to stop and hear the advice of his Father---Andrew ran back into the main room of the inn.

There he was... still staring glumly off into space as he downed that awful smelling 'drink'.

"Hello, Nick," Andrew smiled cheerfully in greeting as he plopped himself down on a seat next to the knight.

'Nick' looked up at him as if he was a noisome insect that had alighted on his otherwise pristine food.

"Andrew," de Brabant acknowledged Andrew rather coolly. The knight looked around, but not spying the innkeeper anywhere nearby decided to swallow his annoyance as well as his ale. How bad could the young pup be? After all, the whelp hadn't spoken much before when that doctor had introduced him.

"I heard you talking about God with that lady earlier."

_Oh, Merciful...!_

Ale went spewing out of Nicholas mouth, as he started choking. Andrew helped him mop up the mess on the table with his handkerchief.

"You what?!" de Brabant hissed in a low voice, anxiously looking about to see if anyone else had heard the youngster's statement. To his relief no one appeared to be unduly interested in their table. He eyed the young Andrew even more coldly than before, wondering just what it was he wanted. _What he would demand for his silence._ Consorting alone with a prostitute who talked like a witch would get him excommunicated---if not burned as a witch himself. Thanks to his _dear_ power-hungry Uncle De LeBarre's demanding that he plead guilty for foully murdering the Celtic priestess---as if he could ever have committed such a thing against his own love---Nicholas' name and honor were already under question back home. And this time, not even his uncle could persuade him to go back on Crusade in additional penance! If the treacherous dog even would. No, De LeBarre was probably happily reaping the riches of the Celts to himself to bother anymore with his nephew. But... he'd rather be condemned as a warlock than be forced to that sweltering hell spawned place again.

"Are you okay?" Andrew asked solicitously as he finished wiping up the spilled liquid. He was afraid that his having startled the man had predisposition the Crusader against him, though he couldn't figure out what he had said to have earned such a reaction. Maybe it had something to do with what Sam had called 'warrior reflexes'?

"That, de Brabant answered gravely, "rather depends on what you want from me."

"Only to introduce you to my Father," Andrew replied.

Nicholas, who had been about to swallow what remained in his cup, looked askance at Andrew. To his mortal eyes, the teenager before him appeared to be dressed in the clothing of a moderately successful trader. Not likely someone of great importance.

"You father? And what has your father to do with me?"

"He wants you as his servant," Andrew--who could think of no greater pleasure than to serve God-- enthusiastically answered him.

Nicholas tensed a bit at that information. Some trader wanted him as a servant? The De Brabants were of noble blood---granted of a minor house, but not one of the commoners. He was nobody's servant save to God and King. This whelp wished him to indenture himself to some unknown House as payment for his discretion over DuCharme? The thought rankled him. Any form of confinement--real or imagined--did after having spent nearly a year as one of the Moslems' prisoners. At first he'd thought he'd been blessed that he'd been able to slay his opponent during that last skirmish; however, the wicked point of the infidel's blade had found entry into his leg just as he'd dealt the final blow. The resultant wound had led to his capture and imprisonment until he'd been traded for one of their own. That year had been the worst in his life.

Still.... what was another year or two in exchange for his honor? He'd play the part of bodyguard to some paranoid trading mogul. At least he'd be able to go home afterwards and finally start taking care of his family. God, how he missed his sweet little sister, Fleur. How old would she be now... sixteen?

"How long would your father 'need' my services as his warrior?"

"Oh, He doesn't need them," Andrew explained proudly. "He's got an army of powerful warriors ready to do His bidding at a moment's notice."

Nicholas revised his hypothesis. Not a trader's offspring, then, but the lesser son of some feudal Lord. But why would such a well-protected and moneyed Lord want another indentured soldier if he had plenty already? Was someone preparing to go to war to enlarge his own lands?

"If he's so rich and powerful, why would he wish my servitude? My family has fallen on hard times, sir, and all I would have to offer is my own sword."

"Oh," Andrew smiled in his ignorance, not realizing that their thoughts were traveling on to separate paths, "He doesn't want anything but your full love and devotion to Himself."

The blood left Nicholas' face as his mind came to its own interpretation of _that_. Just the trip to the holy lands had given him an education on the many different levels of depravity that existed in the minds of men. This was unbelievable. Did the boy actually think he'd try to save his honor by giving himself over to a... to a... sodomite? It was ludicrous!

"I'm sorry." he bit out, doing his utmost to control his temper. The innkeeper had been kind to him and his companions and he didn't want to cause a disturbance here. Spotting the owner, he signaled for the man to come over. Maybe 'Adam' would escort this youth away before he 'lost it' and did something irreversible to the lad. "But, you see," Nicholas began to make his excuses, satisfied that Adam had seen his gesture, "what you speak, _sir_, is not possible. I have a mother and sister to take care--"

And then poor Andrew really put his foot in it.

"Oh, but the Father wants them too!'

The angel frowned as the Crusader's skin tone went from pale to deep red--with the notable exception of where the knight's fingers were gripping the table's edge. What was wrong with this human now?

"Get. Out." de Brabant snarled, seething with rage. "And if I _ever_ see you again, or hear that you've gone anywhere _near_ my family, I will personally see to it that you are fed to the crows in pieces so small, they'll have no trouble getting them down their gullets!"

Stunned at this totally inexplicable answer to what he had said, the naïve angel stammered out: "B-but He o-only want to love the--"

_"Rrraaaaahhhh!"_

In one swift motion, the well-used sword was lifted from its scabbard, the polished metal glinting in the dull light of the room. Moving quickly, 'Innkeeper' Adam snatched Andrew by the back of his tunic and pulled him away just before the crusader's heavy sword could slice into his head.

"Sir de Brabant---I beg you---hold!" the undercover angel entreated, thrusting the clueless Andrew behind him. "He's young and doubtless did not know what he was saying!"

Eyes glaring, the Crusader speared Andrew with a look of pure loathing. God--how he wanted to run the little serpent through! Just within his periphery vision he saw Gregory and Victor also draw their weapons, ready to aid him if the need arose---that or to aid this son of an infidel from their temperamental companion. All around the room men were watching, trying to make out what was happening to have illicit such a roar of outrage from the knight. If he told them they would encourage him to end the miserable youngster's life. But it was the pleading eyes and murmured prayers of the innkeeper that moved Nicholas to stand down.

Trembling with the effort to keep from finishing his attack on the 'offender', Nicholas reluctantly sheathed the broadsword. His actions had made his table the center point of attention, but right now he didn't care---he just wanted to be left alone.

"Get him away from here, monsieur." he managed to grit out. "Just keep him out of my sight."

"Of course--of course..." Adam soothed as he backed away from the irate man, Andrew firmly in tow.

When he had hauled the younger into a private room, they both changed into their true forms.

"What did you think you were doing?!" Adam's own anger exploded. "I'd ask what in God's Holy name---but it's obvious that _He_ had nothing to do with what just happened out there!"

"I..." Andrew tried to say, but Adam wasn't done fuming yet.

"That man is my assignment. Who told you that you could mess with my assignment?"

"Um...he is?" the hapless choir singer swallowed.

Adam stared at him---then slapped his hand against his forehead. "Oh, _no. Y_ou're some vacationing newbie, aren't you?" He laid both hands on the crestfallen _newbie's_ shoulders and commanded. "Look. I've got no time to deal with you right now; I've got to get back out there and try to salvage the situation before de Brabant does something he's going to regret. Whatever you do, _don't_ go back into human form! I--"

Andrew saw his fellow angel's eyes widen as he stared off unseeingly past his shoulder.

"Oh...no..." the caseworker groaned as he blinked out. Not knowing what else to do, Andrew followed. They reappeared at Nicholas' table, where the knight had just spied the mysterious woman 'Janette'.

_(How much do you want me...?)_

_Amazing,_ Andrew thought. The ghostly voice sounded like it had been whispered, yet de Brabant seemed to have heard it clearly enough----he was getting up and following her out of the inn. They hurried after, keeping next to the crusader as he moved down the street to a building that Adam knew had access to the extensive catacombs that were under the city.

"Nicholas," Adam's spiritual form whispered into his assignment's ear. "You don't really want to go with her, do you? Come back to the inn."

The slightly drunken knight hesitated a bit at the doorway, for a moment undecided. In that moment, the smiling Janette appeared and insistently drew him inside. Eyes on hers, he did not resist.

Frustrated, Adam banged his fist against the outer wall. He felt a tug on his sleeve:

Andrew pointed inside to where a pale man with crew cut hair and rich dark clothes was smirking to himself as he silently followed after the human couple. "Excuse me, but who _is_ that?"

"An eleven-hundred year old pain-in-the neck," Adam grimaced. "C'mon! We might as well see this thing through to the end, though now de Brabant's mortal life is all but forfeit unless the Father himself intervenes."

"What do you mean?" Andrew timorously asked. "Are those people...demons?"

"Not quite," was all Adam would answer.

Andrew didn't know what to make of that, but he didn't ask anything more. The enormity of what he had done was finally starting to sink in.


	10. Memories continued

**7/23/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

* * *

Chapter 10: Memories... (continued)

Adam frowned at the pair sprawled upon the varied weavings that covered the mattress. Between the alcohol and Janette's seductive act, his entreaties to Nicholas' spirit were not making any headway. The man was too wrapped up in bodily sensation to hear him. He looked inquiringly at the Angel of Death and the two Warrior Angels who had appeared in the room a moment after he and Andrew, but neither gave any indication of whether they knew which would be called to act.

So they waited.

And prayed.

"An endless parade of such nights could be yours, Nicola," the temptress promised her increasingly pliant victim. "Brave Crusader.... Strong conqueror... are you ready to be conquered? ..... Say goodbye to the light, Nicola..."

Nicholas looked a bit dazed as the beautiful woman who had been kissing him slowly extricated herself from his arms and got off the bed, her blue undergarment flowing about her.

"Where are you going?"

She gave him a demure little smile as she glanced back at him. Lounged against the backboard of the large bed and similarly clad only in his filmy white chemise, her would-be beau indicating his willingness to remain here for her return no matter where she was leaving to. He wasn't alone for long anyway. Only a few seconds later she returned with the richly dressed man Andrew had spotted before. As he moved inward, Janette stayed by the door as if to guard the only exit out.

"Hello, Nicholas..." the man's pleasant voice purred as he looked amusingly upon the dumbstruck knight who had clearly not expected _this_ turn of events. Both he and Andrew gasped in dismay when the newcomer's mouth widened to display a set of upper fangs. "We're going to be friends for a long, _long_ time."

Andrew shuddered at as the monster's chuckle filled the room.

"Who-- _What_ are you?!" Nicholas asked, his heart racing with fear. This being was taller than even he, and a totally unknown threat. What did it want with him? He glanced at his lover and saw that she as well now sported elongated canine teeth peeking out from her upper lip.

"Oh," the very aristocratic monster nonchalantly replied, smirking down at the knight as he drew his attention back towards himself, "something very different from you."

"Different..." Nicholas breathed, his fear rapidly being replaced by a new-found wonder. Never in all his long travels---from the cold land of the Celts to the baking outreaches of the Holy Land---had he ever seen the like of this being. He wanted to know more. _Had_ to know more!

"How different?"

Forgetting that he was clad only in the long chemise, Nicholas reached to up touch the fangs--tentatively at first, but then with greater confidence as the other allowed his touch. His fingers touched real enamel and flawless skin. This was not trickery. Not an illusion of one of the fakirs from the East.

Standing in shock betwixt the twin, red-headed, sword carrying, Warrior Angels and a grim faced Adam, Andrew could contain his anxiety no longer. Surely they weren't just going to stand here and watch this? One of God's children was about to be _attacked_.

"For the Father's sake," he cried, "isn't anybody going to _do_ something?! Those demons--"

"Not demons," one of the Warriors corrected. "Believe me, little Singer, you will know a demon when you see one. These are merely vampires."

"Vampires?" Andrew blinked. He'd never heard of God creating such a thing.

"Vampires," affirmed the Angel of Death---who had the appearance of stout-figured black woman. Her arms crossed against her chest as they watched the ensuing drama; "They are a most pompous, annoying, interfering..." she took a deep breath, laden with exasperation, "and--unfortunately--_protected_ species on God's Green Earth."

"Meaning," Adam sardonically clarified, "that all the Warriors have standing orders to leave them alone unless a human victim specifically asks the Father for protection from them."

"And only God knows the reason why," Sam, who had just winked in, added. "Hello, Adam, Tess, Marcus, Arion," he nodded to each of the others. Sam appeared more than a little ticked as his gazed rather pointedly settled on Andrew. "I leave you alone for a few minutes and look what happens."

Mortified, Andrew scrutinized the general vicinity of his feet. Having mucked up all of his fellow angel's work he couldn't blame them for being upset with him. "I'm sorry. I thought---I really only..." he stammered. "But everything will be okay....won't it? I mean...Nicholas is a Christian still, isn't he? He'll ask for the Father's help?"

For long moments nobody answered him.

Seeing how crestfallen the formerly ebullient Choir Angel had become, Tess took pity on him and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. (Outwardly hard as nails, the journeyman Angel of Death had a marshmallow heart when in came to the hurting.)

"Very few people of this time are 'Christian' like the apostles you are thinking of, Baby," she explained. "They have the concept _of_ God, but not the knowledge of who God _is_."

Adam's grimacing expression was in place as he was still miffed at the Choir Angel for interfering at the worst possible time in what had been a promising assignment. "And Nicholas has been under a crisis of even that quality of faith for several years. He has...issues."

"He's angry at the Father---or his image of the Father," Sam bluntly agreed. "Not to mention seeing so much horrible carnage and torture in his life while yet retaining a nature of curiosity..." His shoulders slumped a bit. "So it is very possible that he will accept Lacroix's offer---especially since vampire masters tend to leave out the 'fine print' when they make it. It will be a great temptation for Nicholas to be brought across."

"Brought across where?"

Taking the Singer aside, Sam explained to the younger angel about the differences between 'The Night People' and humans. Andrew listened half-heartedly as the caseworker relayed all that he knew about vampires to his temporary charge. The singer wondered if he would ever again be allowed back on Earth after this. Assuming he would even want to come down again.

The man's tawny eyes filled with covetousness as he took the exploring fingers and lightly kissed the tips.

"See, Janette---how bold and fearless he is already. Have I not chosen this one well?"

The lady eagerly agreed. "Yes, Lacroix; but...he is mine mon pere? He is for me, remember?"

"Did I not promise you a _brother_?" Lacroix corrected her, never taking his eyes off of de Brabant's. The lady bowed her head in acknowledgment. "Oui."

"Then still your avarice and let me admire my prospective protégé."

De Brabant's eyes clouded with uncertainty as they flickered from one to the other.

"Chosen?"

"Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself,"---slight incline of his head---"you may call me Lucien Lacroix." He smirked. "I believe you have already made the acquaintance of my daughter."

Janette preened for the knight, making her father raise an amused eyebrow at her attempt to seduce the already smitten man.

"To be _chosen_, monsieur de Brabant, is to become one like your eager lover; one of the 'family'---_my_ family. Would you like that, chevalier?" the silken voice asked. "It is a rare thing I offer: my eternal protection would be yours." The voice shifted to its own form of seduction. "To never know betrayal by another man and never fear captivity by lesser beings. To have power that surpasses that of mere kings and emperors." A ringed hand cupped a chin just starting to show a golden peach-fuzz of a beard. It slid smoothly to the throat over to where the main artery, pulsing with warm blood, stroking the skin. "Oui, Nicholas de Brabant, so sorely abused by his fellow mortals...I can make you as a god. You will be glorious to behold, my only true son, blood to blood, brother and lover to my daughter. And all that is required is that you come to me."

The crusader pulled out of the hand, "_Brother_ and lover?" he backed away, shaking his head at the thought of entering what to him was an incestuous relationship. God in Heaven-- he was surrounded by perversion!

Lacroix's features hardened as the knight stumbled back a step. He stalked forward.

Seeing his chance, Adam spoke to de Brabant's unconscious again:

"Nicholas, what they offer is not what you want. Call upon God to protect you and he will!"

The other angels offered their encouragement as well, as de Brabant glanced about the room. Spotting his discarded outer tunic with its embroidered cross and other gear by the floor, Nicholas snatched it up along with a short knife used for close fighting. He held the grey-fabric cross against his chest, the knife pointed at the vampire, reciting: "God... I am a soldier for God. The Lord is my Shepherd...I shall--"

The observing angels looked hopeful, one of the Warriors going so far as to put his hand on his sword hilt in preparation to drawing it out.

Faster than an eye blink, Lacroix was sending the knife skittering across the floor, a harsh tug ripping the tunic from de Brabant's grip. It quickly joined the knife now resting on the other side of the room.. "A _dying_ soldier of your God," he sneered "Just. Like. D'tienne."

Nicholas shrank back at the sudden transformation from lordly gentleman to angry...he wasn't sure just _what_ yet. But that had sounded like a threat. Did they intend to murder him, then? Mind full of fear, he did not hear the promptings of the angels telling him to call on God for protection so they could act on his behalf.

With forced calm, de Brabant tried to edge towards the door, but Janette was there blocking him, and---to his utmost surprise---held fast when he tried to bodily move her away from his only escape route. Seeing that he was well and truly trapped until they had their say, he spun around, demanding of the one named 'Lacroix': "What do you mean?"

Silent as a cat, the vampire had come up right next to him. Now he made a show of delicately sniffing around the crusader's form.

"You smell like you're friend, "Lacroix smarmily asserted. "Right about...here." His hand reached out and lightly gripped the chemise where it covered the area that the Saracen blade laid open over two years ago. "The rot is small yet: a mere patch. But eventually it will consume you as it did him." Nicholas jerked in response to the pain, the unwanted handhold just above and to the side of his knee making the area of his old wound begin what had become a recurring dull throb. He had been unconsciously favoring that leg since the first stirrings of wrongness there. The added pressure only made it worse.

_Much_ worse.

The sibilant voice mused aloud, "It hurts, doesn't it?"

"Y-yes!" the knight gasped.

Lacroix nodded his smile like a shark's. "Internal rot---nasty thing, slowly being devoured alive. But... part of being _human_. It will hurt even more as the decay spreads. You know it will. You saw the agony D'tienne endured, though he tried to hide it from you and the others. No doctor could aid him."

(Sam huffed and muttered at that: "Like _he_ was there.")

"Do you want to die as he did, Nicholas...?" Lacroix went on, ignorant of their invisible audience and their opinions of him. "...to have spent your life in service to others only to be left gasping in agony--shunned."

"N-no." Nicholas sobbed in relief as the hand released him.

"Then _don't_." The shark smile gleamed. "Follow me, heed my call, and you will live forever: eternally young, stronger than a lion, swifter than any horse. I can grant you these gifts that only the gods can grant, Nicholas. Give your life to me...and I will give to you 10,000 lifetimes in return. Your existence will be transformed in ways that mere mortals cannot imagine."---He moved closer to the crusader's neck--"Come to me."

Breathing heavily, Nicholas closed his eyes...

..and six invisible heavenly angels groaned.

Triumphant, Lucien Lacroix embraced Nicholas in a firm grip, sinking his fangs into the vulnerable neck. Within seconds, Nicholas de Brabant was nearly drained, his failing heart laboring to keep him alive.

"He _killed_ him!" Andrew gasped in disbelief. How could they have all just stood there while that vampire _killed_ that poor man!

_"Myyy...the young are ssso much more excssitable thessse daysss."_

Andrew felt the other angels tense as a sense of unexplainable dread made him shiver. The Warrior Angels quickly drew their swords and took positions between the blackness and the others.

"Demons!" they warned.

A dark patch of midnight black oozed up from the 'floor' until it took the form of an iridescent-skinned humanoid, followed by several more human-looking beings. Each held malevolence in their eyes. Piercing orbs of deep scarlet in the leader's head scanned the angels.

_"Now, now,"_ it snickered at the two with a thick hissing accent. _"You make a fffellow ssseem unwelcome." _It turned its 'head' to the Angel of Death. _"Don't get yourrr ssspiel warrrmed up yet, Tesss. De Brrrabant isssn't going to need it."_

Sam's eyes narrowed to slits as he regarded the talking, bipedal oil slick.

"J'ranor," he spat out. "What caused _you_ to slither your way out of your lair--- as if I didn't know?"

_"Ssssoo ffflatered you rrememberred meee, Sssam. Asss to meee...I'm hearr on persssonel busssinesss: A fffamileee matterrr."_

"Riiight..." Tess scornfully mimicked. Sam shushed her. This was a powerful demon they were dealing with-- one of the higher echelons. It was best to be prudent.

_"Luccciusss owesss meee."_

"Oh, yes...that's right. You failed on that one, didn't you? Please pardon, my memory, J'ranor. It's just that with you, there have been so _many_ failures."

_"Don't beee sssso sssure, angel." _the demon hissed.

"Lacroix rejected you, killing his own daughter in the process. I'd say that makes you even."

_"Haaardly. Divvviia held sssoo much promisssse."_

"You can't have them, J'ranor," Sam asserted. "You know the rules regarding that race."

_"Rrulesss? Have I brroken any of Hisss prrecciousss rrulessss?"_ It gestured at its followers. _"Wee arre only herre to ssseee that Nicholasss hasss a choicccce."_

"What choice, serpent?" Adam asked. This was news to him.

The inky 'head' chuckled. _"The choiccce we offferrr alll Divvia'sss childrrren. It hisss my rrriiight. By agrrreement."_

Sam glowered, "That 'agreement' was gained thru trickery. Lucius had no way of knowing that you were not what you professed to be."

_"Ssso? That isss a minorr technicality. The agrrreeement ssstandssss."_

Looking unhappily at the Warriors, Sam sighed. The protecting angels moved aside---but only by a few steps.

"Your agreement is unethical...but valid. However, we _will_ supervise your actions, J'ranor. Force him into anything, and another War shall be between us."

_"Parrranoid,"_ the hissing voice pronounced. It bunched itself up, preparing for something as in the mortal realm, Lacroix and Janette stood close beside the failing body of de Brabant lying on the bed.

Andrew froze in terror as the demon's inky 'arm' shot past him to brush de Brabant's head...

...and the spiritual world changed location.

******Limbo:**

It was a dry place with grayish sand dunes next to a dead sea. Andrew gave a little gasp of startlement as a solitary figure stepped right through him.

Nicholas?!

But the knight did not seem to see or hear him as he strode purposely ahead, clad only in the same flimsy full-length chemise that he had been wearing when Lacroix had interrupted his tryst with Janette.

"It's all right, Andrew," Sam's voice said near his ear.

"Sam?" He spun around but still saw only the receding form of de Brabant, sand, sky, and water. "Where are you?"

"The same place I was before. Nothing has changed, Andrew, except we now perceive this illusion J'ranor has created instead of the room."

"Oh." Andrew looked around. It felt like a real place. "Why?"

"I don't know yet. But this scene reminds me of the place of rest and reflection the Father made for those in turmoil. Only this one is more...depressing."

**Paris:**

"He's dying," Lacroix stated unnecessarily.

Janette looked concerned. "He has gone to the light, hasn't he...as I did? What will you do if he decides to step into the light...to die as a mortal?"

Lacroix frowned. "He will return to me."

Janette--with a look of intense longing--knelt down by the bed and kissed the dying knight's neck. "Oooh... I _want_ him..." Smiling indulgently, Lacroix pulled her aside so as to whisper in deBrabant's ear.

"I hear your heart, Nicholas, growing weaker with each beat. I have drained all but the last of the life from you..." (Lacroix took his own wrist and viciously bit into it.)

**Limbo:**

A wooden doorway appeared on a ridge, the heavy door swinging open to reveal the silhouette of a cloaked figure standing in front of a brilliant light. Squinting against the golden glare, de Brabant headed for it, hesitating when he got within a few yards of the figure.

**Paris:**

Lacroix: "...it has become a part of my own. This is the day of your death, Nicholas. And rebirth with _me_."

**Limbo:**

A kind, feminine voice welcomed the unsure knight.

"You may come to us, Nicholas."

"Who are you? What is this place?" Nicholas looked bewildered.

"Come to us, de Brabant," the angel entreated. "Choose to return to the evil that awaits you, and you will be lost..."

"What the--" Adam's voice demanded. "That's no Angel of Death!"

Andrew heard Tess' equally angry voice agree, "You got _that _right, honey."

"What are they playing at?" Sam wondered.

"Whatever it is," the real Angel of Death testily replied, "you can bet it isn't for the side of Good, Babies."

Lacroix's voice could be heard as from a distance, urgent as it demanded the human's attention.

_("Turn away from the Light, Nicholas. It is not your salvation. It is only for the weak; the defeated. Come back to me, Nicholas.")_

"Well, how about that?" Tess snorted. "For once I actually agree with the old crud. On the first part anyway."

"It's a trap!" Sam exclaimed in realization.

J'ranor's evil chuckle sounded from nowhere. _"Yessss. A nnneat deccception, don't you agreee, Ssam?"_

Sam sounded furious. "It's a gateway to Hell, not Heaven. If he freely enters..."

_"I get hisss ssssoul."_ J'ranor agreed.

"And if he chooses Lacroix?" Adam's voice pondered.

_"Hisss humanity will be sssswallowed by the needsss of the vampirrrre. Deliccioussss to have one onccce ssso trrrue to yoursss in my ssserviccce."_ Evil laughter filled their ears. _"A powerfulll ssslave hossst for a demon--Dearrr Legion hasss already petitionned me forrr him."_ The laughter died down back down to a chuckle. _"And I have thisss lovely Ssssingerrr to thank forrr thisss opporrrtunity. My thannks, Andrrrew."_

Feeling himself go lightheaded as the accusation hit home, Andrew gave a despairing wail, ignoring the entreaties of his fellow angels, falling to his knees and curling into a ball on the course sand._ WhathaveIdone! WhathaveIdone! WhathaveIdone! WhathaveIdone! WhathaveIdone!_

Nicholas: "He has offered me a thousand lifetimes. Everything I desire and covet. Can you do the same? Why should I go with you?"

Guide: "You must choose."

Nicholas: "What can you offer me?"

Guide: "The choice."

(Lacroix) _"Come back to me, Nicholas."_

Nicholas pondered for a moment before making his choice. The next, the desert had disappeared and he was back on the bed, feverishly sucking from the bleeding wound on Lacroix's wrist. The vampire allowed it before breaking free so that his daughter might join her new lover/sibling. The ancient licked close his self-inflicted bite, smiling in the knowledge that by taking _his_ blood as his first meal, de Brabant had unknowingly chosen to be more closely bonded with his new master _Lucien_ rather than with Janette---a bond that neither one could break.

Chevalier Nicholas de Brabant had become not just another uncaringly made fledgling, but his '_son_'for all eternity_--his forever knight._

"_Andrew."_

Andrew whimpered from his place within the warm cocoon of God's Love where the others had brought him. He had refused to answer or change from his fetal position since J'ranor had 'thanked' him.

"_Andrew,"_ the Father repeated in a soothing voice.

"Father---I'm so _sorry_!" the distraught Singer sobbed. "I'm not worthy to be in your Heaven."

"_Andrew..."_ the warm voice sounded amused. _"If I kicked out everyone who had ever made a mistake, Heaven would be a lonely place for Me. I forgive you, my angel."_

"But... But I caused one of your children to fall." The Choir Angel felt compelled to remind Him. "Because of me, he won't be coming Home to You. I-I've condemned him. I'm responsible." Fresh tears poured out like a torrent. _My fault! My fault! My fault! My fault! My fault! My fault!_

The warmth just wrapped tighter around him.

"_De Brabant freely made his choice. But you did have a part to play in it, my angel. And because of this, you will have to ask for his forgiveness."_

Andrew groaned and trembled at the thought. It wasn't that he didn't want to apologize; it was simply that he didn't think he'd be able to face de Brabant. It hurt so much. What he had done was surely unforgivable! He didn't want to see the hate the lost one's eyes would throw at him.

"I-I d-d-don't think I'm r-r-ready. I c-can't face him. I'm s-s-s-sorry..."

"_I know. And neither will he be ready to face you yet. Not for a long while."_

"O-oh", Andrew's voice cracked with both relief and consternation.

"_I will mute your pain until that time, Andrew; it is too much for you to bear now. I will remove the memory of Nicholas to ease your conscious and let you heal. But not for always---just for now. In a time coming, you will remember and have to face your responsibility to him---just as he will have to face his own 'demons'."_

And a cozy blanket of forgetfulness came over Andrew as he was released back into the care of the Choir Supervisor.

_----------End of 1228 Flashback------ (__finally!_)---

* * *

**A/N:** I haven't forgotten about the other main TBAA characters. Tess and Monica still have their part to play in this and not just in the end credits.

_**Review Answers:**_

_**Alynna Lis Eachann: **Obviously, Andrew was my favorite as well. :-P The first episode I saw with him was the one where he was auctioned off. The actor really looked good back then. Woo!_

_I shouldn't answer that as it will require a bit of a spoiler, but yeah... vampires here have perfect memories, so Nick will remember Andrew once he's lucid. Glad you like that bit at the inn table. It was fun to come up with the necessary major misunderstanding between the two. –laughs--_

_**Louis Pastiche:** Honestly? I don't know. Personally, I only got to watch a handful of shows. When I was reading the fanfic over at the TBAA Forums, angels like Adam and Sam seemed to pop up a lot so I figured they were part of the show. It could be they were in earlier episodes only._

_It's not really so much a 'time filler' as a history of preceding events that lead up to the present. If you were familiar with Forever Knight (in which is the home territory of this fanfic, you'd be familiar with the fastbacks (memories) that were an integral part of each episode. They explained why the characters were behaving as they were in the present. And sometimes they were more interesting to watch then the modern-day crime plot! Hopefully, that won't be the case here. But, yes, there will be more action and angst later when time reverts to the present. Right now you are finding out how and why Nicholas became a vampire as well as how Andrew knew of their existence and has a responsibility towards Nicholas._

_**Superfan:** I think I was picturing one of the thugs from a James Bond movie there. Needed a big, bad, burly character, but one with some brains—which is probably more than the JB goons had. (grins)_

_**Elendil: **It's sad how TV big wigs tend to ignore a show except for its ratings numbers, yet then if it suddenly does well—they feel compelled to stick their two cents in. More good shows have been ruined by exec idiots getting their fingerprints all over a show or just plain having a death wish for it. Classic Star Trek was an early example of this._

_No, the vampires of FK were under no such restrictions. They did tend to shy away from stuff like holy water, crosses, garlic, beheadings, wooden stakes... and definitely sunlight would burn them to ashes--- but no invitation by a victim was needed. Neither could they turn into mist or become lupine or bat. Oh, and Natalie was only joking when she talked about Nick being able to finally see himself in a mirror. Though the metaphysical realm did exist in the FK universe, vampirism was considered to be more like a transferable disease than a demonic curse. Some fan even came up with an eggnoodled 'scientific' explanation for their being able to fly... but I forgot what it was._

_That's why I write fantasy fiction rather than fact--- it's a lot more fun to be able to tweak the universe around a bit. –winks—_

_Heheheh... Well, Nicholas's mentor calls himself Lacroix which means The Cross in Latin. In the show, the vampires' reactions to holy objects ranged anywhere from discomfort to hideous agony depending on the proximity to the object or how holy it was--- and how tolerant the vampire was due to his age. But words were another matter entirely. For example, scripture could be quoted freely. So Janette would have no qualms about invoking the Lord's name in vain or even saying his name if she was of a mind. Besides, because she said Sacred Blood does not necessarily mean that she was thinking of the Christian god. There are heathen rites that deal with blood. Plus, how many people actually mean they want someone to have sex when they curse with the F word? Curses are just that—exclamations._

_**Mary Rose:** In that case I hope you have a high tolerance for angst and melodrama. -grins- Nick was a highly psychologically tormented character and I write him as such---with my own developed sense of Good VS Evil—Live & In Stereo!---thrown in for the heck of it. Andrew I think would also be a wonderful worrywart if he didn't have the assurance of his contact with God to back him up.. I really should have left him more adrift in this; however, at the time I was under too severe a time restraint to have Andrew discover everything on his lonesome: God made a nice fast-forward for background information. Oh well._


	11. Rejections

**7/23/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

* * *

_**A/N:**_

_This post dedicated to Feliz, who took the time to answer this newbie's questions and give gracious comments despite admitting that she likes bloodsuckers as much as Dr. Van Helsing did. _

_For all you did/do, this post's for you! _

_(er...sorry about the vamped-out scene a'comming, Feliz! What can I say? I think he looks kind'a cute that way---and I have the Adobe-Photo Shop pics to prove it!! Bwahahaha.! ..ahem.)_

_Again, I had help with the French via a French speaker, so am trusting it's correct._

_(Thanks to all readers for bearing with me while I backtracked to Choir Angel Andrew & mortal Nicholas' first meeting. The story now reverts to present day at a Toronto lakeside park.)_

_

* * *

_

_Before the1228 flashback: _

_(Sam had said)"You're an Ancient vampire---for Jehovah's sake, Andrew---just act like one!" Then De Brabant twisted his head away from Kurkan's bared teeth---and desperate but aware eyes locked upon his own._

_And Andrew remembered._

* * *

Chapter 11: Rejections

_[Modern day Toronto, Canada: a lakeside park]_

As the removed guilt-ridden memories suddenly became part of him again, Andrew wanted to just fall under their weight, but he knew he couldn't afford to waste time in remorse---simply because there _was_ no more time.

"Stop!"

Kurkan froze, the fingers of one hand having managed to pry de Brabant's mouth open. Glowing red eyes---still drunk with his victory over the Toronto Elder---contemplated the 'older vampire' as he contemptuously sneered, "Why?"

Andrew felt his vampiric 'beast' within brindle at the implied challenge. His first desire as a peaceable angel was to quell it before it could do harm. However...

_(...for Jehovah's sake---__act_ like one!)

_Father, I hope I know what I'm doing this time,_ he earnestly prayed... then let the Vampire nature to the surface.

Kurkan felt a wash of power start to push against him as the formerly 'observe only' Ancient displayed his potential and Kurkan realized how badly he had miscalculated. Before confronting Lucius, he had watched the others from afar. It had not seemed then that this one was any friend to the Roman. Nor had any of his master's spies reported the Belgian knight as having encountered anyone older than the General and Divia---save him and Joran. Most disturbing of all now that he thought of it was the fact that he did not recognize this vampire from any of the Council's meetings---and his master kept tabs on everyone of any power.

Who, then, was this stranger?

"I have never seen you before..." he stated, fishing for information to relay back to his sire. (Joran disliked incomplete reports and was quite physical when expressing his displeasure.)

The heady rush of 'letting the Vampire out' was more than Andrew had expected: the possession of sheer power, the sensuality of extending his daggered teeth, the change from regular to heat-seeking vision. In the Raven, he had been too overwhelmed by the newness of his situation to truly be aware of it... to utilize it. To _embrace_ it!

Unseen by all, Sam was joined by Tess, who smacked her hand against her forehead when she saw what was going on, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like the beginnings of: "That Angel Boy doesn't know--!" She would have rushed to her friend, but Sam stopped her with a shake of his head and a firm grip on the supervisor's arm. She looked affronted. Silently he pointed upwards and she gave in. As much as she wanted to charge in there, her Angel Boy was in better hands than hers right now. Sam smiled as she relaxed and nodded her understanding. Then they both winked out.

Andrew gave a feral smile at the Interviewer as he stalked the lesser vampire, secure in the knowledge that he was the dominant one here, the 'alpha male' to these..._cubs_. The lazy growl rolled in his throat as he hyper sped to stand right behind this overconfident beta who had neglected to show him proper respect!

He leaned forward a bit to brush Kurkan's ear with his breath.

"Why?" he purred in a husky voice, relishing his quarry's unease. "Because I'm _Andrew_: ancient, powerful and rather hungry... and I don't want you dropping the whelp as I feed." He scrapped his fangs along the Interviewer's neck, relishing the taste of subservient fear.

Predictable--the insolent one was readying to flee his pleasure. But as fun as a game of chase might be, dawn was near and this one's blood was calling to him. No, he was feeling too impatient to wait. Seizing the hairless neck, he brought it to a better biting angle...

Nicholas's scared cobalt eyes staring at him. Like a pleading puppy dog's afraid of his owner's rolled up newspaper.

Oh, oh...Lord! _What was he doing?_

Using the dark blueness of those eyes as a focal point, Andrew the Angel forced back the untamed animal instincts. He felt Kurkan take advantage of his sudden distraction to escape into the air; felt the Vampire rage within at his efforts to control it; it was furious at the loss of its prey. Andrew barely had the presence of mind to grab de Brabant as the Interviewer let go in order to keep the former from sliding to the ground. Sighing, felt the bloodsweat trickling down his scalp as the violent emotions within were finally subdued. With a sigh of relief, the angel thanked God that this body was only temporary.

No wonder the Night People had such nightmarishly strict rules to govern their own! How carefully they must choose their offspring, for only those strong-willed enough to curb such strong, primal urges could hope to master them. Otherwise, it would be like letting a pack of prehistoric raptors loose on a world of deer: within a couple of generations, the deer would be extinct.

"Lucius!" A harried-looking Kurkan railed at the weakened, impaled vampire from his safer position high above the trio. "I don't know how you found some rogue to help you--but know _this_! Lord Joran will be told! Forfeit de Brabant to him, or face the High Council's displeasure and their Enforcers! You have been warned!" The last word had barely left his mouth before he shot away in the pre-dawn sky.

"Chiron...dump...your...miserable...carcass...mid....river," the impaled Lacroix weakly spat at the receding figure.

Andrew felt hands lightly pummeling his chest and realized he was still holding up de Brabant. He eased the wild-eyed vampire to the ground. Nicholas tore free to stumble to the Elder's side.

"Lacroix...?" he whimpered, trying in vain to pull out the branch from his father's body. However, with the wood splinters still inside his own ravaged chest preventing him from healing properly, he could not gather enough strength for the job. "Get it out. I'm so sorry... get it out..."

Lacroix patted the tear-streaked face, "Let it... be, mon fils, you...only...hurt yourself...more."

However, Nicholas seemed not to hear, intent on the piece of wood in his hands as he mumbled over and over: "Get it out..." The Elder gave up, turning red-filled irises on Andrew.

"Well?" he asked with false calm. "Janette...is coming...and....will be...here...before...the...sun. You--whoever...you are--still...just...have...time...to...take him." He coughed up a mouthful of dark blood, wincing in pain. "I...obviously....cannot...stop...you...._right_....now."

Andrew knelt down beside them. Gently removing Nicholas scrapped hands from the stake; he wrapped his own around the blood-slicked bark---roughly slamming down the Vampire that was being aroused again by the smell.

Starry heavens, how did they cope with this annoyingly insistent hunger? And de Brabant had for several years chosen to work as a homicide detective? He shook his head. The constant strain of having to control himself around bloody crimes scenes must have been tremendous. No wonder the knight had apparently lost it.

"Do you trust me?" Andrew asked the Elder.

Lacroix gave a sardonic chuckle. "As...with...fictitional...Agent Mulder...I...learned...long...ago...trust...no one." He let his body relax against the grass and closed his eyes in weariness. "But...if...you...would?"

Nervously swallowing back the queasiness that rose in his throat at what he was about to do, Andrew heaved on the branch, making the Elder roar with pain as it came free. He watched avidly as Nicholas slashed a wrist and tried to feed his sire only to have the elder lick the ripped vein closed, rebuking his son when he tried to repeat the maneuver. Nicholas' familial intentions not withstanding, the younger also could not afford any more lossed blood.

"Children," Lacroix sighed (already sounding a tiny bit better now that the branch was gone--even with a dirt and splinter infected wound) "for centuries...you chase after the ungrateful imps, then suddenly... you can't get them to give you some air space.." He stared hard into his child's eyes.

"Obey... your sister.., Nicholas, while... we recover. No more taking off. Understand?"

The face under the mop of blond locks frowned, gazing out over the lake. "Le eau..." He attempted to rise.

Andrew followed his eyes, scanning the lake for more threats like Kurkan. There _was_ something ominous about the dark water, but nothing he could put his finger on.

"Nicola, ou vas-tu?! Obe'ir, Janette--comprendre?!" his father growled, making the knight snap his attention back to him.

"Mais, mon pere..."

The fatigued elder fought for patience. This delusion of his son was getting old---fast, but yelling at the boy would only cause him to withdraw again.

"No, Nicholas. There...is no one in...the water calling you."

De Brabant nodded, though not looking terribly convinced; however, he sat back down to wait for Janette as instructed.

Minutes later, Janette dropped from the air along with four other vampires. Sizing up the situation she immediately began barking out orders to the younger ones.

"Bridgette, check and make sure no passing mortal witnessed this; Alma---clean up the blood and any other traces of a battle. Move--the sun is soon to rise!"

Going to the waiting trio, she gave her sire a silver flask to drink from, opening the top first. The metallic aroma of warm blood rose from the container. He downed it greedily. She produced another for Nicholas which he tried to give to Lacroix as well, shaking his head. Wordlessly, she grabbed it back, unscrewed the top and handed it back to him. Andrew caught a whiff of something that smelled like blood, but not terribly pleasant: like the aroma of plain oatmeal after savoring the fragrance of a gourmet dish.

"Nicola, it's cow," she reassured her brother. "Now, drink."

He drank.

Andrew couldn't help but grimace just watching him swallow the stuff. His personal feelings aside, the Vampire knew that animal blood was not its natural food. The stuff was a pale comparison to what it wanted. There was a class of lesser vampires called 'carouche' that fed almost exclusively from animals---those having been their first taste of blood when they were brought across, but Andrew knew that de Brabant was not one of those: Lacroix had fed him with his own blood to ensure a closer bond with his son. And knowing Lacroix, he would have made sure any subsequent meals for his fledgling were 'grade AAA' so to speak.

So why would Nicholas refuse the figurative lobster dinner for the vampire version of 'puffed rice cakes?

Guilt... It had to be guilt---like the Father had said. Why else would he be hiding his mind and denying his body? Andrew couldn't help but remember his own terrible feelings of guilt---still so close to the surface---of wanting to hide inside of his own little world and not come out ever again.

Conscience could be as cruel as any demon.

Janette gestured for Miklos, a dark Irish male, to assist her in getting her sire up. "Lacroix, who did this?"

"Kurkan."

The Parisian gasped, "Kurkan? It is too soon."

Lacroix grimaced, growing paler as he stood up. "Apparently Joran's... sense of timing... is off, and his... lackey took... exception... to my suggestion... that... he check his Rolex's warranty." He slumped in her and the bartender's arms. "Splinters... in both, Janette..?"

"Miklos and Feliks---help Lacroix home and make him comfortable until I get there. Be careful!" The two males nodded. Few substances caused them physical pain, but wood cellulose was one of the major ones.

Turning to Andrew, she looked him over.

"Neither Lacroix nor Nicola could have removed the stake. Was it you?"

"Yes," Andrew admitted, wondering if she would send him away. Frankly, it had him a bit worried as he had no idea where to spend the day otherwise. The Father had not given him much in the way of Canadian money, though it would probably appear in his pocket if he did need to seek shelter in a human motel. Yet, he had the strong impression that he needed to be with de Brabant as much as possible, so...

"Lacroix does not trust you."

"No."

"Should I?"

Andrew gave a self-deprecatory smile. "You would trust my word over his?"

Janette pursed her lips and relaxed her stance. "Non. But unlike Lacroix, I have learned to trust my own instincts when it comes to men...I..." downcast look "I have had a lot of experience at that." Brightening up, she smiled at him. "At any rate, my instincts are telling me that you are like my Nicola...le juste chevalier...always galloping in to help the cause of those he sees in distress, is that not so?"

Chuckling ruefully, the angel scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I've never been a knight, but I _have_ been accused of charging ahead without making sure my armor is completely affixed first. Does that count?"

She laughed at the puppyish twinkle in his eye. A twin to her impulsive sibling, indeed!

"The sun rises and I must get Nicola to the safety of The Raven. If you would, monsieur?"

"For you, my wise lady, anything," Andrew gallantly bowed." He bent to scoop up de Brabant, trying not to jostle him over much; yet Nicholas flinched at his touch a little even so.

"Ale and the...and... " the troubled vampire looked confused. "Do...do I know you?" he frowned, staring intently at Andrew, as if trying to figure out a complex puzzle with a central piece missing.

Janette brushed the hair out of his face, mistaking his question for uncertainty on account of Andrew's being a relative stranger.. "It is all right, Nicola---I will be by you as well."

They lifted off into the fading night.

Back at the upstairs living quarters of The Raven, Janette was patiently removing tiny splinters and other debris from Lacroix abdomen, while in an adjacent bedroom Feliks was doing the same for Nicholas. The Roman was none too pleased to see Andrew had come as well, but Janette diplomatically pointed out that it was better to know where he was than not to. Whether Lacroix agreed with his daughter's logic or no, he conceded to let Andrew stay---in his room---while their wounds were being cleansed.

"What is wrong with him?" Andrew asked, having a hard time reconciling the nearly broken-spirited version of the proud man he now remembered from nearly 800-years before. The Father had said it was intense grief, and Andrew knew that guilt was also a major factor, but He had not elaborated further.

Lacroix's expression---which had softened towards him a little after he volunteered to help Janette clean up the resulting mess, once more hardened with suspicion.

"He is not a danger to the Community!" the Elder hotly contested. "I have taken responsibility for him until he recovers."

"Whoa!" Andrew said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm not from the Council or the Enforcers. Isn't that clear to you by now?"

Lacroix studied him with a sarcastic air, somehow seeming superior to all even while recuperating on a bed.

"Nothing, Andrew, is _clear_. You come from seemingly nowhere. You have all the power of someone with four or more millennium, yet neither I nor that dental-hygiene lacking obscenity you faced down has ever heard of nor seen you before. More, you act like a newborn fledgling unused to having that power. You, sir, are an enigma, and I do not _like_ enigmas. Who are you really?"

"Look...I came to help, and you know my name already."

"Help?" the Roman sneered. "Did I request your _help_?" He snorted in disgust. "I will not trust my favorite to a mere two syllables!"

"What, then?" Andrew asked, getting frustrated. He'd never liked this assignment to begin with---and now to know that he was part of the catalyst was getting to him. He felt the Vampire stir restlessly within, and forced himself to calm down.

"I don't know how to convince you I mean no ill will."

Lacroix closed his eyes, thinking.

"You have heard the phrase: 'A picture speaks a thousand words'?"

"Sure..." Andrew's eyes went wide as understanding hit. "Oh, no!"

"It is the only way I will trust you alone with him. You say you mean him no harm. Prove it to me in a way that leaves no doubt. Otherwise, sir, I would appreciate your leaving Toronto come dusk."

* * *

_**Review Answers:**_

_**Elendil: **um... okay. 0.o_

_**Mary Rose: **Unless doing a story is completely Alternate Universe 'out there', I like to add a sprinkling of canon whenever possible. It's fun to try to mesh it or flesh it out to fit in original material.  
_

_Hmmm... looks like the TBAA crowd had enough of this story Oh well, I did/am writing it for my own fun anyway. Not like I'm being paid to do this drivel. –lol-_


	12. Backgrounds

**7/24/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

* * *

Part 12: Backgrounds

After leaving Lacroix's room, Andrew had spent several hours in a coma-like sleep down in the basement. It was where Janette gave orphaned fledglings of less than a century of age a safe haven from the sun. Most had been too afraid of 'the Ancient One' to open up, but a few had been willing to make small talk.

Especially about Lacroix's brood.

Lacroix they steered clear of as much as possible: he was respected and feared. Nicholas they neither knew a lot of nor cared much about. He was old by their estimation, but had weird ideas, and was currently sick or something. Not surprising considering what he ate. No, they didn't know more---Lacroix had made it clear that that one was off-limits, and one didn't cross the Elder if one wanted to remain in one piece. Janette was revered by all. Apparently, not many cared about the survival of master-less fledglings.

As dusk neared, Andrew had gone upstairs to the 'closed for the day' nightclub level in order to think. Sam had been waiting for him on one of the barstools.

"What do I do, Sam?" Andrew asked as they sat together at the bar despite the gloomy atmosphere of the empty place. There was no where else they could talk, since Andrew was confined to the darkness as long he was in this form. (Another trial to endure: the Angel of Death already sorely missed the colors that sunlight brought out; the tingle of its warmth on his face.)

"If I allow the bloodkiss," Andrew began, frowning at his right hand (the index and middle finger of which he held curled like striking fangs) " Lacroix will find out what I really am, and the Father says he is not ready for that insight yet: the reflected Light of his Glory would likely kill him just as sunlight would. If I _don't_ allow it, then he'll kick me out, I'll never get to apologize for the damage I did to de Brabant, and this Joran creep will brainwash Nicholas or whatever it is he's planning on doing to him." He rested his elbows on the serving bar and let his head fall into his hands with a long moan. "_Not_ that the poor guy has much brains left to be washed---and I think that's my fault, too."

"Well...," Sam pondered the question, "If there is no other option, and you feel de Brabant is in some sort of imminent danger, then you'll have to allow it."

Andrew uncovered his eyes, the better to send his friend an incredulous look. "You're saying I should start apologizing to Nicholas by doing in his sire?" (The pantomimed fangs swiftly became upraised palms handing something over to an invisible third person.) "Here, Nicholas, sorry about pushing you into the Night People's realm back in 1228, and by the way, where would you like me to set your dad's ashes?'

Sam unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh.

"This isn't funny, Sam!"

"I know, quit looking so indignant. Actually, I was thinking of an intermediary. Someone a bit more open minded."

That idea had merit, Andrew mused. He really didn't want the Elder to do it--- Lacroix was so intimidating. But...

"Like who? You know, that Roman's really paranoid. It would have to be someone who he knows very well, and as far as I've heard, Nicholas is the only one who might have accepted the idea of one of us in their midst enough to absorb the shock unscathed," the corner of Andrew's mouth quirked upwards at the irony of the situation. "Most vampires don't think angels and demons exist beyond the movies... not consciously, anyway."

"What about the daughter, that Janette?" Sam prodded. "She's seems capable and very self-possessed."

Janette?

Rubbing the back of his head, Andrew blew out a long breath. "Sure... But I heard she's also de Brabant's wife. Doubt he'd appreciate us biting each other."

"_Was_ his wife," Sam corrected. "That marriage was annulled by her during the Renaissance."

Andrew frowned at this news. "You mean she dumped him? I thought they were lovers."

"They are. But living a mortal marriage was Nicholas' wish, and after 97-years she tired of it. Family relations are different with these, you know."

Oh yeah, that's right," Andrew sighed, resting his head back on his hands. "His vampire grandmother is also his step-sister, being his father's daughter, but only on the mortal side... "Andrew turned his head in order to look at his friend and mentor with a pained expression." Sam, this assignment is giving me a headache."

"No one said casework was easy as you've already had plenty of experience to realize," his friend reminded him. "Just ask Monica. She's trying to help some girl whose dad was killed in a plane crash a bit back. Seems she's gone all morbid and joined the Goth crowd despite having received a free scholarship for as long as she likes to whichever university she wants."

Andrew was impressed.

"The dad must have had one huge life insurance policy or been fabulously wealthy."

Sam chuckled. "Nope, and that's not all. The widow's bills were all paid off, plus a sizable nest egg deposited in her banking account---all by a single charitable organization."

Andrew's eyes went vacant as he remembered something:

_("Thank you, sir," Feliks bowed low. "And when he feels better, tell Nicholas that I have made sure that all of the Brabant Foundation's charitable contributions are up to date, the monies sent where he wanted before... well, before..")_

"He knows her, doesn't he?" Andrew prodded. "Monica's and my assignments know each other."

Tess chose that moment to make herself visible to him.

"Tess!" the off-duty Angel of Death grinned happily. "Am I glad to see you!" He scanned the room for his other friend and was disappointed that she wasn't there as well. Tess saw the look on his face and gave him a hug.

"Oh, Angel Boy, don't take it so hard. Remember, this is the first time she's had to learn about vampires." She frowned at the picture over the bar. "And we didn't exactly get good vibes from this place---plus the owner threw us out."

"She did!"

Her expression hardened. "And it's just as well, Mr. Slipped Halo," she sternly told him. "If we had stuck around, what would Monica have thought of that display at the park? Just what were you thinking, Angel Boy?"

Andrew hung his head. "Oh. That...er...well... I kind of got caught up in the role before I knew it."

"You mean the Vampire caught up with _you_," Tess looked disgusted.

"I suppose so..." Puppy dog eyes filled with tears. "Guess I'm blowing my second chance, huh?"

Tess was instantly contrite as she pulled him into a hug.

"Oh, no, Baby. You're not blowing it! You just gotta be careful on this one, child. There are powerful forces at play here."

"And it's necessary that you understand just what de Brabant and the other's are living with," Sam put in, eyeing Tess. "Walk in their shoes a bit. It's hard to be of much help if you're too busy criticizing your assignment's failings."

The dark supervisor blushed a little at the rebuke and decided to change the subject.

"Speaking of which..." she coughed "...and back to your earlier question... Not directly, Angel Boy. You see, Monica's assignment is a teenager named Jenny. Jenny Schanke's dad was one of de Brabant's detective partners back in the mid-90's, a Donald G. Schanke. They became really good friends after a rocky start. De Brabant nearly left his life in Toronto after Don's death, it hit him so hard. You see, he and their captain were supposed to fly a prisoner to Montreal, because Nick was the arresting officer. But he couldn't do it because the trial was scheduled for the daytime and...Well, you know what that would have meant for him."

Andrew nodded: Nicholas de Brabant would have become just a pile of burnt ash in a court room with open windows--or even just by departing the plane if it was delayed long enough.

"So he told Schanke to 'take the glory of the limelight on this one," Sam continued, "thinking he'd be pleasing his fame-hungry partner while getting out of a sticky situation. However, a bomb exploded killing all on board but a baby his greater hearing ability heard crying from the wreckage. He saved that life, but blamed himself for 'murdering' his partner. Nick's felt responsible for what happened ever since, and has been taking care of Myra and Jenny's financial needs."

"Wait. You mean Schanke knew what de Brabant was?" Andrew asked, surprised. According to the rules, vampires had to either hypnotize or kill mortals if they found out vampires really existed. That was the 'Code': their set of laws. Maybe it was the Enforcers (vampire police) who had set the bomb to teach Nicholas a lesson.

"Was?" Tess huffed, "Don never even knew his real name. Back then, Nick was using the alias of 'Nicholas B. Knight'. He had to keep the Code even from his friends, or the Enforcers would have killed both of them."

"Then it was this Schanke's death that sent him spiraling downward?"

"Started it," Sam grunted. "But it gets worse. He lost a lot of his old memories when a cop-killer bullet took out a sizeable chunk of his brain. His replacement partner, Tracy Vetter, was killed a year later. She also was the Commissioner's daughter, so the Internal Affairs really went after 'Knight', since he was supposed to keep her safe from harm."

"Wow... to lose three friends in just a year's time would be a hard pill to swallow."

"Three?" Sam grimaced. "Try double that figure. The clincher was the death of his closest mortal friend---Dr. Natalie Lambert---the only mortal the Enforcers let him reveal his true nature to because she was so useful to the Community; being the city's coroner meant she could hide evidence of messed-up kills for them. But in between those deaths was a man-created plague deadly to their kind that nearly wiped out the entire Toronto Community. And then Divia showed up and killed two new friends---one a potential lover for him since Janette had had to move on to Montreal what with their 'Dorian Grey' problem."

Andrew nodded his understanding of what Sam was referring to: Vampires didn't age---a fact that mortals would notice if they stayed in one place too long. He frowned at something else his friend had mentioned.

"Just a minute...that name sounds familiar..." His eyes widened. "You mean Divia...the demon possessed one?!"

Tess and Sam looked at each other.

"Andrew," Sam sighed as he laid a hand on the younger angel's shoulder. "The Father says its time you learned the whole story."

* * *

Sam began, "Back in 79 A.D, a demon posing as a healer named Qa-Ra saw the potential for great evil in Lucius of Pompey's daughter by the whore, Selene. While she was lying ill on her death bed, he slipped her the vampire virus, thinking to control her as her 'master'. But Divia turned out to be even more depraved and unstable than Qa-Ra foresaw---she even 'killed' him, making him retreat back to hell to revise his plans."

"Divia then gave her doting father a choice between dying as Mt. Vesuvius erupted, or becoming immortal like her," Tess broke in. "He had only seconds to decide...no need to guess what he chose. However, it wasn't long before even Lucius had had enough of her wickedness. He beheaded her and sealed the body in an Egyptian tomb."

Sam nodded. "Seeing that, the demon returned, this time masquerading as an elder vampire. He used Lucius' regret over his daughter's demise to maneuver him where he wanted. Informed him his life was forfeit for having harmed the one who brought him across. But the demon offered him a deal instead: When Lucius made his own offspring, he was to have them brought before an Interviewer on their 800th year as a vampire."

Andrew stiffened as he put two and two together. "Then... Joran is a demon."

"An _arch_ demon," Sam corrected, "with designs on the children of Lucius since that line had held so much promise to him before. 'Joran' has a single-tracked, twisted mind when he sets his sights on something."

Tess cleared her throat. "Lucius wasn't a fool. He purposely brought across humans he wasn't interested in, hoping that Joran would pick one of those. By the time he had taken the name of Lucien and met Janette DuCharme---a noble woman sold to a whorehouse because she could not give her husband children---he was certain his plan had worked: Joran had all but taken one of the earlier ones as forfeit per their deal, and Lucius could freely start making the close family ties his personality craved."

"He made Janette because her dark predilection for revenge appealed to his own," Sam mused. But Nicholas... Nicholas was chosen first as a challenge and as a favor to Janette, who desired a short-term lover."

Tess rolled her eyes. "Lucius was feeling bored and wanted to see if a professed God-fearing Christian could be seduced to give Him up. Janette liked Sir Nicholas' looks, and after observing the Crusader as he traveled up from Venice to Paris on his way home to the Brabant duche, Lucius gave his approval."

Sam's eyes grew intent. "Because, Andrew, after tasting some of Nicholas' blood that had dripped on the ground after a slight accident outside Paris, he had started to see him as more than a challenge," Sam put in. "You see, Lucius found in Nicholas something he doesn't have nor understand why he craves it. He was raised to be a taker---and takers live in a darkness of the soul. But the Father gave Nicholas a very giving nature from birth. Even as a faith-sick mortal, and then a vampire, his blood still holds the joy that comes of giving freely of all you are to another. With that one taste, Lucien became addicted to it. Right then and there, he was determined to have Nicholas by his side forever.

"But," Tess's voice turned ominous, "he'd forgotten that Joran was still having him watched, and Joran also liked the idea of an man who had taken an oath to God becoming turned to Darkness, though not as just a source of amusement as Lucius had originally intended. He saw that the Father must love this man very much to have given him that gift; what an opportunity to hurt Him by taking Nicholas to Hell---or worse---mating his soul to that of one of his demon followers." She held Andrew's hand. "And that's when a certain, naive choir angel stumbled into the picture."

Andrew grasped the hand tightly as he felt himself go dizzy. "You're telling me... you mean..?"

"Yes, Baby. Joran the arch demon---currently masking his true self as a High Council vampire Elder---. his real name is actually..."

"J'ranor," Andrew choked out.

* * *

_**Review Answers:**_

_Well, that had to be kind of boring to read, but I hope the ending made up for it a little. I'm going to post the next one quickly before you all fall asleep. That is, if FFN holds together long enough. A lot of Server Error messages today._

_**Elendil: **Sci Fi Channel isn't playing Forever Knight here. They did for awhile, but not of late. I did read an article in the TV Guide some months ago about FK though. It was rated #25 in top cult show hits. So maybe they will bring it back. In the meantime, at least I have the first season from Columbia's dvd collection. (of course my fav was season two dang it all.)_

_**Wanderer D:  
**_

_I saw all of maybe 10 episodes of Touched By An Angel (just enough to decide I really liked Andrew), but my understanding would be that all angelic power is really that of God. Picture them as the moon reflecting the light of the Sun. So the angels would have no more power than God allows them at any given time. They **do** however, have free will to follow God (or not to: like the demons who in this story at least created their own warped version of creation's power and corrupted it. Ie: biblically, tigers would have been herbivores until Evil warped them into carnivores.)_

_So Andrew would have gone from knowing how it felt to have God's power flow through him while not retaining its power for himself--- to having this powerful being's abilities inside him. Again, not his own power, but feeling much more like it was. Plus that this would be Andrew's first awareness of feeling the liking for and selfishness of power. Remember the saying: Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely? This is what Andrew now has to guard against-- pride. Something he never had to worry about in his angelic form where Absolute Power was God's alone and never his._

_Goodness... I guess those answers could have been shorter, huh?_

_**Louis Pastiche: **Lordy—all the reviews at once! –heh-_

_She talked to him at twilight (just dark enough for her not to upset Smokey the Bear. During that same night Andrew upset Nick and Nick got himself into a pickle with a real bite to it. _

_Nope, that was part of the plot. As was this yawner._

_This will teach you to make guesses at my writing! Mwahaahaahaa. –ahem- Btw, snapshots are possible and are referred to as 'empirical evidence' if it can be used to prove vampires exist. Something that brings in the Enforcers down on everyone's head! Anway, what Lacroix wants from Andrew will be revealed in the next post. _


	13. The Bloodkiss

**7/24/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

* * *

Chapter 13: The Bloodkiss

It was the beginning of twilight outside the Raven, the main business of which had been closed by the Elder's expressed order: the bouncers were only to allow in members of the Community that the Roman was on friendly terms with until a formality was concluded. Any who should appear this early were to get their drinks quickly before settling in seats to watch the event if they cared to stay for it.

So far, none had come save those the Elder had purposely invited, their clothing still smelling faintly of smoke to attest what they had risked by answering Lacroix's unexpected summons; pieces of thick, dark fabric that they had swathed their faces and hands in to protect themselves from the last, fading rays of sunlight hung on chairs near the bar. Such an early meeting virtually assured that the only 'walk in' audience would be those young, forgotten ones that Janette had taken under her wing.

Just now, assorted fledglings were fidgeting quietly around the perimeter of the dance floor, made nervous by the electrified air around the distinguished elders in the middle. More of the very youngest were stumbling in, awakened earlier than was their wont by the sense of anticipation from the others, their drowsy murmurings hastily quieted by their more awake fellows.

Lucien Lacroix's ice-blue eyes stared hard into Andrew's as they stood facing each other within the designated area of the room. The vampire master looked very impressive in his all-black suit with the sword-shaped silver stickpin jutting through his high collar. Totally healed too, the angel noted---not a trace of disability from his earlier wounds evident.

Andrew on the other hand felt _very_ uncomfortable as he and the vampire master were the focal point for a loose circle of six very serious faced vampires. Of those, he recognized the ones from earlier: Janette, Feliks, Merlin, Miklos...and now another one wearing glasses and having a balding head. The latter sensed old--- older than even Lacroix---yet was attired more like the youngsters surrounding the circle: very casual off-the-rack as opposed to famous designer originals. The glasses had to be an affectation as no vampire would need such physical aids.

"Aristotle," Lacroix had gravely welcomed the nerdish-looking vampire inside as if no other introduction was necessary, "How are the American Communities doing these days?

Andrew had nodded his own polite greeting to the one it seemed everyone should know, hoping his face didn't betray that he hadn't a clue why he was so important. Whereas the vampire certainly felt old enough to be the famous one of history, he doubted the Night People cared one whit about the Greek's theories on philosophy.

Aristotle frowned at him through his glasses in a funny manner, but nodded back. He seemed more curious than anything else by Andrew's presence.

"My daughter, my trusted friends, my fellow children of the night," the Elder began, momentarily taking his eyes off the angel in order to acknowledge the growing crowd, "I have called you all here as witnesses. This newcomer among us---an Ancient---" he indicated Andrew---"has professed a desire to interact with my family. Now normally, I would not hesitate to fulfill the request of one of authority..." an anonymous cough was hastily stifled as the Elder glared in its direction "but there is a problem. It seems that no one can really vouch for our friend here's veracity." He turned to the spectacled vampire.

"Aristotle?"

The casually attired vampire shrugged. "I've no record of that name being attached to any of the very Ancient, nor do I recognize him at all from a more personal view. I'm certain he has never directly used any of my services."

Lacroix remained silent a moment longer to let that sink in.

"A vampire that _Aristotle_ does not recognize?" the Roman lifted an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Has never needed his paper-trail modified or a new identity created? Still, he is old enough to be with the Council. But that does not explain how Interviewer Kurkan had to ask him who he was."

Mutterings and speculating whispers could be heard from beyond the circle as the more knowledgeable informed their infant brethren of Kurkan and how nearly all vampires used Aristotle's considerable resources when it came time to move from one assumed name to another.

Lacroix smiled at the crowd with palms raised in false supplication. "You see, my children, my reason for hesitating on giving this one what he asks? I am responsible for the well-being of my family..."his tone turned threatening "and you know how seriously I view that commitment."

Dead silence prevailed. They knew. Those that didn't were mixed with the dust of the earth.

The pleasant smile smoothly returned. "But I am not _unreasonable_. It could be he is who he purports himself to be. Therefore, I am requesting this indisputable assurance of his good will toward my own."

He faced Andrew.

"Do you accept the taking of blood to honor the truth?"

Andrew gulped. He really, _really_ wished he could get out of this. However...

"I do."

Fangs appeared within the victorious smile of the Elder. He reached for the top fastener of Andrew's primly buttoned up shirt.

"But not," Andrew qualified, "by you. I demand the right to choose who I reveal myself to." He gave a mental sigh of relief as the former general withdrew his hand.

Growling low in his throat, the Roman narrowed his eyes at him. He was clearly disgruntled about not learning the mysterious vampire's secrets for himself.

"Who, then?"

"Ja..." Andrew caught himself, feeling a gentle nudge from within. "Aristotle."

The vampires blinked.

Lacroix inwardly fumed. With any of the others, he could have used his authority to get the information he wanted either verbally or by compelling another bloodkiss with the ancient's partner before the taken blood had mixed together. But special rules applied to Aristotle because of the wealth of personal data he had on so many vampires' current and past histories. Aristotle was _untouchable_ as far as taking was concerned; thus, a secret given to the Greek was safer than a brick of gold in Fort Knox.

"You understand that by choosing Aristotle, you cannot bite back?" Lacroix reminded him in hopes that Andrew would change his mind. "His blood contains too much information on the Community to be shared with another of even the High Council. An infraction of that rule will result in your immediate and complete immolation."

"Yes," Andrew replied. Not that it mattered to him. He had no intention of biting any of those present. He would, in fact, happily go through this entire assignment without doing it at all. "That's fine."

"Very well."

And the Roman exchanged places with the Greek who smiled somewhat shyly up at the taller vampire as he took off his glasses to wipe the lenses and pocket them.

"Well...then..." Aristotle coughed. "Since it's your blood... Which do you prefer?"

"Excuse me?" Andrew asked. Had he missed something?

"From the neck or the wrist, sir?"

"Oh." The angel hastily unbuttoned his left cuff and extended his wrist, inwardly cringing as the unassuming fellow moved back the fabric before extending his fangs. He'd never been bitten by anything bigger than a mosquito and a doctor's hypodermic before. This would probably hurt a lot.

To Andrew's surprise the dual assault of the canine teeth through his skin did not hurt at all. And the gentle sensation of blood being sucking from his veins was actually sort of pleasant. Unconsciously purring as Aristotle swallowed his first mouthful, his eyes became golden and his own fangs erupted as his Vampire awakened. Suddenly, he had the almost overwhelming desire to sink his own teeth into the other as his acquired beast sought to complete the ancient instinct of blood sharing.

Andrew wasn't sure if he could control it.


	14. Shattered Images

**7/24/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

* * *

Chapter 14: Shattered Images

No wonder the others had been shocked by his choice! Andrew silently groaned as he found himself once again struggling with the demanding vessel he was now encased in. In his haste to get this ritual over with, he had forgotten that vampires were naturally possessive of their own blood. They reacted strongly to losing it either by fighting an enemy or seeking recompense from a partner/mate if they had the strength to do so. The Angel of Death called upon every wisp of will-power he possessed to keep from falling upon Aristotle's neck.

And yet...

The choice had not been solely his. The Father had whispered Aristotle's name to him at the crucial moment of decision. Not that he meant to doubt his Creator, but... why had Jehovah done so when he had been about to request Janette for this? Why endanger this assignment and His angel by having him take such a risk?

_Father, help me---this is too much! I don't understand!_

Just when he thought he couldn't hold out any more, he felt the ivory daggers in his wrist withdraw as Aristotle sank to his knees looking up with a blank expression at his blood-sharing partner. Nervously, Andrew waited as the Greek just stared straight ahead with wide eyes, mouth working slightly as he convulsively swallowed the remnants of the angel's vampiric blood already in his mouth.

Now the crowd began to stir. Already aroused by witnessing the bloodkiss, a swarm of eyes now turned golden quickly became flecked with scarlet as long seconds went by and Aristotle still knelt in a shell-shocked trance. This was not what they had expected to happen and the vampires started to get concerned; their accusatory eyes silently asked Andrew: _Have you, Ancient amongst us notwithstanding, dared to give harm to our most treasured member outside the High Council?_ Memories of Divia were still fresh on their minds.

_Uh...oh._

Andrew felt his heart actually beat twice as he stood there, watching the Toronto vampires---old and young alike---consider how they were going to tear him into pieces.

_Father, help me!!_ He prayed in a rising panic. There was no other way he was going to get out of this other than with God's immediate intervention. _Help me! Help me! Help!_

"Oh.... oh...._my_."

Every head turned as Aristotle began to rapidly blink and swallow, their attention transferred to the Greek. Lacroix helped him get to his feet.

"Aristotle?"

"My...my... oh... my."

"Aristotle!" the city Elder urgently demanded an answer before a riot broke out; no one wished to incur the notice of the mortal authorities for a mere false alarm. "Has he harmed you?" Lacroix's mind quickly flashed to Divia and the madness her daughter had transferred to her victims through her blood. If they lost Aristotle...

"Harmed?" the Greek turned dazed eyes upon his host, breathing deeply as he separated his rampaging thoughts from the images he had gotten from Andrew, "Harmed? Um...no." Retrieving his spectacles from their pocket, Aristotle shakily replacing them on his nose before elaborating further. He cleared his throat and said in a stronger--though very quiet--voice. "No. No, not at all. It's just... unexpected. _Very_ unexpected...yes."

Lacroix licked his lips. "What did you feel?"

Aristotle scowled at him, mildly offended, as he rebuked the city Elder. "Lacroix, you know I can't reveal things given in confidence. However..." and he gave Andrew a look of awe, "as to what you feared... I believe you may rest assured that this one will never seek to harm your son. In fact, I think Nicholas could not have a better friend just now." Seeing the Roman was going to protest that his son needed no better friend than his master, the older vampire forcibly added in a whisper: "Oh, swallow that pride for once. I _meant_ what I said, Lucius. Let this 'Andrew' stay." He pulled himself from the Roman's grasp and gave Andrew a respectful bow before heading for the bar. "Now, if you'll excuse me... I need a drink---several in fact---and some time alone to think about...things."

Disappointed but not surprised that Aristotle refused to say more on the subject, Lacroix motioned for Miklos to get the philosophizing vampire whatever he wanted while he confronted Andrew again.

"Clever maneuver, monsieur," the General reluctantly allowed. "You have gained my respect for your talent for strategy if nothing else: your secret is now quite safe with the Bishop---where it would have been swiftly taken had you used the Queen." He ground his teeth a bit. "It seems that I am now bound to fulfill your request for access to my Knight."

Turning sharply on his heel, Lacroix stormed to the bar, the younger vampires quickly getting out of his way and planning where to spend this night and maybe the next day elsewhere. An irate Elder was not someone they wanted to be around.

Andrew felt his tension dissipate. Well, _that_ had been a very stressful exercise in self control! But worth it, he saw, as the Night People seemed more at ease around him now that he had a known Ancient's approval---if not the city Elder's. He nodded his thanks as a deferential Feliks brought him a large crystal goblet of the House Special. Savoring the energizing food as it was transformed for him by the Holy Spirit, Andrew closed his eyes and humbly prayed:

_Thank you, again, Father. As always, you're far wiser than your poor, worrywart of a servant._

_(chuckle) Apology accepted, Andrew---as always. But now you have another one's to court and his will not be as easy to attain. Go to him, my angel, and do not be afraid. I will be with you._

Shocked and pleased that God was audibly speaking to his mind again, Andrew smiled. As the Father's words faded, he felt a presence at his elbow.

Janette.

"Lord Andrew," she took his hand. "I am to escort you to my brother's room."

The hallway was deserted as Janette walked with him towards the second-to-the-last door: an all-metal one. Her hand hesitated as she aligned the key with the lock. On the other side, the muffled sounds of loud piano music could be heard pounding against the barrier to the rest of the domicile level.

"Please understand, Lord," she pleaded with him, her eyes fixed on the key, "that he suffers terrible mood swings and sometimes does not speak words that make sense. Please..._please_ have patience and do not hurt him when that happens?"

"My beautiful Lady DuCharme, your devotion to those in your care does you credit. Rest assured that I would sooner hurt myself than harm him."

Janette blinked in confusion. "You know him personally, then, m'sieur, as a friend?" She wondered why it was she had never seen this one in Nicola's blood---he surely would have made quite an impression on her brother---this Ancient so like unto himself.

"From a very long time ago," Andrew admitted, "He... I did not present myself very well at the time though. Now I wish to make amends."

When he did not elaborate any more, Janette slid the key into the lock and opened the door.

Instantly, the piano music stilled.

Across the room a red-eyed vampire sitting at the baby grand piano flew to the top of the instrument, clinging to the polished lid like a startled mountain lion. A slender chain of a shiny metal swayed from where it was attached to a room-circumventing bar to where it disappeared somewhere upon the room's occupant. Presumably it allowed its captive complete freedom around the room while giving extra assurance that he was denied freedom _from_ the room. And a crowded room it was too, what with the piano, a bed, a small desk, a painting easel and art supply organizer, and a bookcase full of leather-bound novels.

The vampire hissed and bared his fangs at them.

"Get him, out, Janette!"

Andrew took an involuntary step back at the angry roar and maddened eyes, but Janette just walked in and secured the door behind them.

"Nicola," she scolded her disheveled-looking brother, daringly reaching up to try to finger comb the dark blonde mass of hair into some form of order, "do not be rude. There is no reason to fear him. Am I not here, mon amour?"

Nicholas responded by scooting over until he dropped down close to his sister, falling down to his knees and burying his face in her midriff as Janette rubbed his back.. Now Andrew could see that the other end of the chain was welded to a metal band around the vampire's waist, its presence nearly obscured by a long black vest over a grey poet's shirt.

"Lacroix is very angry, Janette," the captive declared in a scared tone. "He chained me again. I've made him angry!"

"Non, his anger is not at you, Nicholas. And the chain is just to keep you from wandering off again. Don't be afraid."

"No, I left and got hurt because of it. Lacroix too." Cobalt eyes looked worriedly up at his sister. "Said hurt you, Janette?"

Janette fought back the smile that wanted to erupt every time he gave her that 'bad puppy' expression. The lakeside incident had been a real scare and it was best he knew it. "Oui, we were frightened for you, Nicola. What if the Enforcers had found you? What if Kurkan had taken you away from us?"

"Kurkan..." de Brabant mused, sliding even further down to sit on the floor at her feet, worrying at a thumb with his fangs."...he must have heard them too."

"Heard what, Nicholas?" Andrew asked from where he had prudently elected to stay until Janette could sooth her sibling down.

The knight flinched at his voice, eyes darkening; but he answered in a hushed whisper just loud enough for them to hear: "The voices in the water."

Janette gave a sound that was partway between an exasperated huff and an annoyed hiss. "How many times have Lacroix and I told you there is nothing in the lake?"

Her brother rolled away to sullenly huddle in a corner between a double-sized bed and a small writing desk, the chain partially wrapped around his upper torso. He hung unto the descending links with both hands.

"I heard them," he obstinately asserted. "Don't tell me I didn't, Janette—I _heard_ them!"

Janette sighed. They had had this conversation too many times before and it always went nowhere. Better finish this up while her brother was still lucid enough to understand her instructions.

"Nicola..." she waited until his blue eyes looked up at her and ignoring his pouting face." This is Lord Andrew. He wishes to speak with you for awhile."

"Alone," Andrew qualified. It wouldn't do for Janette to be listening to their conversation.

Using the chain to haul himself up even faster, Nicholas flew back to Janette's side and embraced her in a tight hug.

"No! Don't leave! I don't want be alone with him! I don't like him! Please, Janette?"

"Nicholas, relax and let me go or I will call Lacroix and then he _will_ punish you," she let her growing impatience come through her voice.

"No--I don't care!" he clung even tighter. "Don't leave, Nat! Please don't leave me again!"

Ignoring his slip---a sign his mind was starting to submerge back to wherever it went at these times---Janette tried one more tactic. She hated to do this to him, but... Sacred Mother Earth, as much as she wanted to, she couldn't stay.

"Nicola, if you don't let me go, mon coeur, Lacroix will punish _me_."

Nicholas inhaled sharply and flew backwards to the bed, once again wrapping himself in the chain, this time on purpose. Bloody tears ran down his face as he apologized to both Janette and a muddled memory.

"Can't, can't touch.., sorry...my fault...have to keep you safe. I can't let him find out I love you, Nat. I won't let him hurt you because of me... Not like the others... won't..."

Turning away to dab at her own eyes with a black silk handkerchief, Janette pointed to a wall intercom near the door.

"When you want to leave, just call us on that device. And please remember your promise?"

She hastily left, not daring to look back at her softly mumbling brother lest she break down altogether. The door locked shut with a soft click.

Abandoned to his own devices, Andrew looked over to where Nicholas was hunched on the bed in a tight ball, and sighed. For the second time in as many nights, this was not the reunion circumstances he had hoped for.

"De Brabant?"

One minute melted into another as Andrew stood by the doorway and waited for the vampire to acknowledge him in some fashion. When he didn't, the angel decided to make a quick inspection of the room in hopes of getting to know his assignment that much better, going first to the intercom to familiarize himself with the controls should he need to contact someone in a hurry. It was a simple ON/OFF/TALK/LISTEN affair, but with several background music options included: Ocean Waves, Mountain Stream, and Night Music. Curious, he pressed the last and was rewarded with the haunting sounds of bass flutes with cello and archaic rebec, as well as wolf and owl sound effects mixed in. All meant to soothe and relax the listener, no doubt. He switched it off and moved on to the steel bookcase.

Most of the novels it held appeared to be the original versions of classic literature or their early translations: a 1652 Latin translation of Homer's Iliad in a sealed container, Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass, Shakespeare's works, Herman Melville, Victor Hugo's Les Miserables, Nathaniel Hawthorne's A Scarlet Letter, Walden's Pond, The Poems of Robert Frost, various others from around the world---even two philosophies written in Cantonese. Taking up the hand-bound collection of Shakespeare's works, Andrew saw something fall from within the pages; his enhanced reflexes snatched it up well before it could hit the ground. It was a small note on brittle, yellowed parchment done in elaborate script:

_'Nikolas,_

_My Thanks for thy insyghtful Commentary on_

_Hamlet's Character. Methinks the Play is betre for it._

_Take care and Godspeed, Will '_

He carefully slipped it back in its place. Several of the original novels also held personal notes.

So the knight was a seeker of the written arts? Not surprising, he supposed, since he had been nobility as a mortal and it had been the moneyed upper class that had sponsored artists of merit. Some had even considered it their Godly duty to do so.

The easel, unfortunately, was barren of a current work; however, there were several canvases stacked against the oil paint and accessories organizer. A casual flip through revealed several rather angry looking abstracts, and a very unsettling Impressionistic depiction of a dismal, fog-enshrouded carnival where all the players performed their roles with vacant expressions before an either sleeping or dead audience; Andrew wasn't sure which. Off to one side, a dark ringmaster looked on neither approving nor disapproving of the scene before him.

Andrew felt himself grow more depressed just looking at them. He hastily set the pieces back against the organizer and went over to the desk to see what was there. There had to be something with which he could connect with the tortured soul on the bed.

A small notebook lay on top. Feeling a little self-conscience about snooping, yet knowing that he had to understand the problem before he could be part of the solution, Andrew picked it up.

"Mind if I take a look?" he asked the knight flashing the notebook in front of his face.

Nicholas still ignored him.

"Oh well, just remember that I did ask first."

The middle page was poetry. He read it aloud.

_The icy winds seep through my door,_

_They seek to freeze my soul,_

_Another treasured moment past_

_Has turned to burnt-out coal._

_Another memory is gone,_

_Another 'membrance fades,_

_How can I keep up this facade_

_When Time each moment raids?_

_Whom will I be when all is waste?_

_Where will my soul belong?_

_An Emptiness spreads out before_

_Where once I saw the dawn._

"Cheery little bugger aren't you," Andrew sighed as the following few pages revealed more of the same ilk. He flipped to the front page.

Ahhh...this was promising: musical scores. Lots of music scores painstakingly written out by hand, a few as yet unfinished-- and all done with a modern ball-point pen. Feeling a nudge from the Holy Spirit, Andrew picked out several pages titled: "Sunlight Mixed With Fire" with accompanying lyrics, and took it over to the piano. Seating himself on the bench, he found he could both read and play the complicated work with natural ease.

_Her heart is filled with patience,_

_Pure faith that does not tire_

_Her breath is woven round me:_

_My sunlight mixed with fire._

_It burns, yet I endure it,_

_For, truth, how could I do not?_

_My heart is freed within me:_

_Her sunshine loosed the knot._

_Ablaze with Heaven's glory,_

_My fiery, golden, dove,_

_Has lit the Dark within me,_

_And taught it how to love._

It was beautiful; poignant and sweet. A pity he only made it partway before the score were snatched from the piano. Turning partially around, he saw Nicholas clutching the notebook to his chest as he glowered at the offender.

The animal growl was low and threatening. "Don't."

Don't? Don't play? Don't touch? Don't sing?

"Why not?" Andrew asked, genuinely curious. "It's a lovely piece. God fills the Earth with beauty for us to cherish it---not hide it away under a bushel."

The amber eyes winced, reverting back to their stormy blue. Reverently replacing the notebook back on the desk top, de Brabant silently leapt back on the bed, legs bent and kept close to his torso with one arm, the other looping around the vertical section of chain before his face, grimly holding on. The silent treatment resumed, but at least now the knight seemed aware of his presence, eyes warily watching his every movement.

Projecting an aura of harmlessness, Andrew crossed to the bed and sat down on the far edge. It didn't seem to matter: the knight scooted back against the headboard, putting as much distance as he could between them without leaving the bed altogether. The hand clutching the chain tightened to where Andrew fancied he could hear bones cracking; and the angel sensed that any move on his part would send the other flying straight up to the ceiling, he was so tense.

"I'm sorry to see that your not feeling well, Nicholas," Andrew began, "if I may call you by your christian name?"

A small, noncommittal shrug tried unsuccessfully to hide a shudder. The blue eyes lowered, shadowed with shame.

Andrew kicked himself for using that term. De Brabant no longer considered himself a Christian, though he had performed more 'christian' acts' during these latter years than most humans had done in their entire lives.

"Nicholas," he tried again, "do you remember me at all?'

Swishing his tongue inside his mouth at the memory of the cruel fingers trying to get in---protectively moving his arm so that it guarded his mouth as he did so--de Brabant murmured, "Kurkan. You...stopped Kurkan's hurting me."

"Yes. I stopped Kurkan," Andrew agreed, elated to at last have gotten an intelligent response. "But do you remember me from before that?"

A negation move of the head.

"Are you sure? I was dressed a bit differently then," he supplied. "It was rather long ago...in Paris."

"Paris? Janette loves Paris." A spark of memory lit the pale face. "Ale..." the eyes dared to look up again, but the word was hardly more than a hesitant whisper.

"Yes," Andrew encouraged. "We met outside the inn. You went inside to drink."

"Ale...straw..." the knight blinked in confusion, his words as easily meant for the furniture's edification as the waiting angel's. "Janette doesn't like ale. Or straw. No ale or straw at The Raven." His eyes focused on the slender chain that acted as his second shadow. "Chains in Raven. Chains.....no wood." The cobalt eyes became dilated at they moved on to something only they could see. "Chains and metal and...water. They won't let me go."

Andrew noticed that the restrictive chain and band---so deceptively slender---were actually composed of a titanium alloy. So, too, were the ceiling bar and its anchors. Remembering what Janette had commented on before about Houdini, he noticed that the torso collar looked brand new and was fitted with a hi-tech electronic lock as opposed to regular keyed one. No more escape attempts for their wayward family member that way, Andrew mused. And, now that he thought about it, not by a window either. For the first time Andrew realized that---save for the bedding and plastic support frames on the canvases---the room was done entirely in metals of various strengths. Nothing with sharp edges, no outlets save the door. Not so much as a splinter of wood or a ventilation shaft. The room had been carefully designed to thwart any attempts at suicide or escape by a despondent vampire.

It was downright claustrophobic.

He shook himself from the uncomfortable feeling and asked, "Who won't let you go?"

"Everyone."

Looking into the lost eyes, Andrew swallowed hard. "And where would you go, if you could?"

"To the water... We met at the stone circle, but she went to the water. The harp drew me there. She was going to cut me open in the morgue on our wedding bed--- I loved her then, you see? The fluorescent lighting and the singing of the choir as musicians played, but the cooler had blood bags in it, so I drained her instead. She told me the soothsayer said I'd live long, but eternally alone and we'd be together always. They said I killed her, but I didn't. I think it was Uncle. Lacroix knew I drained her. He laughed at me. He looked so sad, you know? There in the loft as earth grew damp from her blood in the shadow of the stone circle... I can hear the lake."

"Nicholas?" Andrew asked, trying to draw him back to reality---or at least some semblance of it.

Unheeding of the angel's questioning voice, Nicholas kept mindlessly holding the chain as he continued mouthing some mish mashed historical litany only he could understand.

"Chevalier, look at me," Andrew implored.

Adam suddenly appeared with his hand on top of the knight's golden hair, making a startled Andrew almost fall to the floor.

Nicholas didn't even flinch.

"Sorry about that," Adam apologized. "I should have knocked first."

"It's okay," Andrew said as he righted himself. "Frankly, I'm glad of your company--this place is creeping me out."

"It does have that mental institution feel, doesn't it?" Adam agreed, after taking a second to gaze around. "As to the inmate..." the Angel of Death fondly tousled the hair "he can't hear you right now, Andrew. Currently, his mind is not even aware we are here."

Andrew nodded in agreement. "He's holding up someplace in that head of his. This is more than just grief, Adam. It's just a feeling I have that something more is wrong, but it's a strong one. What else is going on here?"

"It's the demons."

The angels could have sworn a dark cloud had descended upon them at the voicing of the word. Andrew looked around the room in dread, half expecting to see dark shapes fly out of the corners to attack them.

"Not here..." his friend qualified then added cryptically, "Unfortunately."

"Adam, how could demons not being here possibly be considered 'unfortunate'?"

"_Unfortunate_ because if they were in the room, we could call the Warriors to protect him. But... they are in here." Adam explained his hand still on the knight's head. He moved the desk chair over to the bedside and sat down.

"In his head," Andrew asked, eyes widening. "You mean he's _possessed_?"

'No--not possessed. Not yet, thank Jehovah. But he _is_ under intense attack--through his blood." The Angel of Death closed his eyes and began to relay to his friend what had happened just a few years ago in Toronto.

"Several years ago, J'ranor succeeded in getting around the Warrior's watchful eyes---albeit, not as he himself had planned." Sad eyes met Andrew's as Adam made himself more comfortable in the chair.

"You know that Divia was beheaded by Lacroix and entombed in Egypt?"

Andrew nodded.

"Well... she didn't actually die back then as we all had thought...

As Andrew listened, Adam recounted how they'd learned that Divia had stayed alive in that sarcophagus for 2,000 years when some foolish men broke into the tomb seeking ancient treasure and released a monster instead.

"She fed from them. It was pretty messy." Closing his eyes, Adam swallowed. "J'ranor had one of his generals attempt to meld with her as soon as her hunger was satiated on a nearby village. For the most part the demon was successful. Divia was so filled with desire for revenge upon Lucius that she actually allowed the half-possession—obviously, the time spent trapped alone in the crypt drove her insane. A blessing in disguise otherwise her possession would have been complete and J'ranor would have already won his campaign for Divia was evil enough to have met the requirement.

Anyway, in a matter of hours, she was on her way to Toronto. But she didn't want to just murder her father--oh, no--" Adam grimaced, "He had to suffer as she had: experience the loss of everything he held dear before he died... So started the killing spree which kept us AoD's pretty busy. Since the Warriors could not defend one vampire against another, they were on their own."

"Why was I not called?" Andrew asked, feeling a little put out that he hadn't been. Did the Father think he couldn't handle escorting vampires?

Adam seemed to read his mind, "No, Andrew---it wasn't that He purposely left you out. You were busy on another assignment. This happened in the fall of 1996."

Oh. Yes, he had been pretty busy working with Tess and Monica that year, Andrew remembered. It had almost seemed at the time that evil had been working overtime trying to influence humans to be their worst.

"Most of her victims died straight out from their wounds, but even those that did not suffered horrible visions of evil from the infected blood of her bite. Javier Vachon, a former conquistador, was one who chose suicide rather than live with the evil within him. He was a friend of Nick's whose daughter, Urs, Nicholas had begun a tenuous relationship with. Divia practically tore her throat out and left the body in de Brabant's home for him to find as a calling card. He was her last target before she planned to hit Lacroix: A final blow before the coupe de grace. Divia attacked de Brabant in his loft home, mercilessly knocking him around before she nearly drained him. Probably hoped that the 'favorite' would suffer as Vachon had before actually dying, letting Lacroix experience his agony through their master/fledgling bond before death finally took him."

"But he didn't die." Andrew mused. "Don't get me wrong, but...why not?"

"No, he survived." Adam nodded, giving the knight a warm smile. Of all the Night People, de Brabant was a favorite. "Grace of God for a repentant sinner, perhaps? Since Nicholas, here, has been living mostly on steer blood and given up murdering people for his meals, Divia's demon-spawned disease didn't affect him like it had the others who had been drinking only human. He was able to physically recover enough to stake Divia just as she was about to drain Lucius. But the 'infection' was still there in a weakened form, festering...throwing him off kilter and warping his judgment. Shortly after, his mortal friend and confidant had her own setback: someone she knew committed suicide. At the same time, his new partner took a bullet from an escaped convict because she didn't know that the gun aimed at Nick couldn't really hurt him—she thought she was protecting her partner. The bullet passed straight through him and into her. She died from it.

Neither de Brabant nor Natalie Lambert were thinking straight when she pressured him into trying a rather dubious 'vampire cure', insisting and finally convincing him that he had the faith to succeed. He was to take just a sip of blood from her as they made love. But Nicholas had been living on a starvation diet for over a century---especially during the past six years as Lambert believed it was the drinking of blood that kept him as a vampire. The taste of someone who loved him so deeply was like thrusting a chocolate éclair in front of a chocoholic who had been confined to a diet of mush for years."

"He drained her." Andrew felt sick, his own sense of guilt rising up again. Hadn't he 'drained' de Brabant of his will to remain human?

Adam nodded. "He couldn't help it. Everything combined was just too much for his willpower to subdue the Vampire's need. It was over before he even realized she was dying. Lacroix came in then and told him they should just start their lives over again somewhere else. Nicholas countered with a request that the Ancient stake him."

"Suicide?"

"Yes. Nicholas had been courting the idea for years, he just could never quite bring himself to do it, and so in his grief he finally asked Lacroix to do it for him. Lucius responded by knocking him unconscious with the would-be stake and confining him in an Australian Outback homestead for awhile. When Janette came back to Toronto to reopen The Raven, Lacroix returned so that Nicholas would have the support of his family and friends nearby."

"And J'ranor?"

"Obviously, that bastard means to strike while Nicholas's mind is in disarray. He only needs a vampire's wholehearted agreement to be able to use them, Andrew; complete agreement by a sane vampire. That's the deal. And he did partially have Nicholas once, if only for a day."

Rubbing his eyes, Andrew moaned tiredly. "_What_ deal? Several times now I've heard hints that the Night People are treated differently than humans. Why is that, Adam?"

His friend's expression became apologetic. "I'm sorry, Andrew. But that's 'need to know' information. The Father will tell you when or if he wants to."

Pushing himself back unto his feet, Adam stretched. "Besides, don't you think its time you helped Nick?"

"Goodness, Adam---what do you think I've been trying to do all this time," Andrew grumbled. "My patient isn't exactly working with all his hard drive formatted." Sadly, he added, "And he doesn't trust me even when he's lucid enough to listen. Somewhere in there--if he truly remembers me at all--I think he's royally ticked at my person."

Adam squeezed his shoulder in a gesture of understanding. "He's wandering lost, Andrew. You've gotta go find him before you can make amends."

"All well and good, but do you have any ideas on just how to go about it?"

"Sure do." Adam gave a sly grin. "Bite him."

"Huh?" Andrew wondered if Nicholas wasn't the only insane one in the room. Or maybe there were three...

"Bite him. Taste his blood like Aristotle did yours. By the way, I hope none of the vampires require _his_ services for a bit---Aristotle's really shaken up. What kind of wild memories did you play for him?"

Andrew blushed at the joke, lightly smacked his grinning friend on the arm.

"Hey--haven't you got other vampirized Angels of Death's to go bug?"

"Nope, just you-- but I _do_ have to go. Have fun!"

"Wait!" Andrew took a breath. "Adam," Andrew countered, "based on what little tidbits you've given so far, if madness somehow saved us from Divia then should I be trying to 'find' Nicholas at all?"

Adam just lifted an eyebrow and stared at him, making Andrew sigh as he accepted the inevitable. The Father just wasn't going to let him out of this one.

"Okay, fine, I'll do it."

Adam gave a little farewell wave before winking out.

Some minutes later...

"Have fun," Andrew muttered under his breath, as he moved into a sitting position behind de Brabant. The knight was still holding the chain with a death grip, so he had been forced to choose the more 'personal' option over the more formal wrist.

At least his 'partner' smelled clean.

Butterflies of nervousness gripped Andrew's stomach. Did he really have enough experience to try this? What if he did it wrong? What if the wound didn't close afterwards and Nicholas bled to death?

_Don't be silly, Andrew, how could he possibly bleed to death from a bite? You don't wear wooden fang dentures._

Realizing that he was just procrastinating, Andrew willed his fangs to drop and tentatively touched them to the Belgian knight's neck. He'd just scrape the skin enough to get a small taste and...

Instantly, both Vampires rose to the fore as Nicholas's growled its outrage at the intrusion and Andrew's answered with its dominance. Arms encircling the struggling knight, he reared his head back and sank his fangs deep into the cool skin.

Cold blood flooded his mouth: salty and metallic tasting liquid. Andrew had expected that the taste would nauseate him since the Father wouldn't be changing it this time: it would be 100% pure Sir Nicholas de Brabant, and not of the Holy Spirit.

Surprise for him---it was delicious! (Well, the Vampire in him thought so anyway.) Not as divine as God's to be sure, but wonderful nonetheless as the various passions in the blood became his own. Unthinkingly, he swallowed several more, lost in the sensations. Then the taste started to change. Barely perceptible, but there, a tinge of something off. Of... not right.

Andrew felt as if he was falling into Darkness.

* * *

_**Review Answers:**_

_**Wanderer D: **Better go make yourself some more sandwiches as you can see I've just dished out another cliffhanger. At least these last two were not sleep inducing like the preceding couple. _

_**Louie Pastiche: **_

_Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was a master. I loved the stories and the last English rendition of Sherlock Holmes... though I confess I always cared more for Dr. Watson than Holmes. I admired his dogged loyalty to the man even at Sherlock's worst._

_It was not Andrew's strategy, but his Father's. Andrew was all set to give Janette the double dipping hickey._

_Yeah, that post and Aristotle's rebuking Lacroix were fun to write._

_Hang on to your hats for the next post as will contain a lot of scene switches in rapid succession as Andrew goes hunting for de Brabant._


	15. Shards of the Past

**7/24/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

* * *

Chapter 15: Shards of the Past

_Swirling black...charcoal... then mist..._

_Sweet aroma of grass and wild flowers._

_The sound of weeping._

For an instant Andrew saw a young knight in Crusader garb sobbing as he knelt amidst a sea of grave markers. Pale sunlight glinted off of a metal band around his waist.

"Nicholas?" Andrew asked in stunned amazement, wondering what had happened to the secured room at the Raven.

The figure jerked upright and fled away from him. Seeing that his one possible source of information to where this was quickly getting away from him, Andrew began to give chase; however, he was quickly enveloped by darkness...

Strong odors of brick and asphalt and garbage.

The sounds of distant traffic...

_What? _

Swirling shades of neutrality coalesced into a deserted city alley that Andrew did not recognize. Up above, the night sky was dismally overcast. Where in the world was he?

"Freeze!"

Andrew froze at the authoritative sound. Now what?

"Turn around---slowly," the voice commanded.

Easing himself 180 degrees from his former position, Andrew found himself facing the business end of a gun.

The other side was in the firm grasp of one no-nonsense looking figure, his facial features steeped in shadow.

"Sorry?" Andrew gaped; not at all sure of what was going on. In the dim light, he spotted an almost-new looking circus flyer that proclaimed the year as 1996. Something had brought him here, back in time as well as place? So what had happened to the apparition of Nicholas as a medieval knight? Assuming that _had_ been de Brabant who'd run from him.

The figure with the gun took two steps forward, allowing the light from a neon sign to bathe his face in an emerald glow.

He clothing had somehow changed to a tailored black oxford shirt with dark grey jacket and pants. The titanium restraint absent, but then, so was the whole 'little boy lost' demeanor the angel had seen him wear since that time in 1228. But it was unmistakably...

"Nicholas?"

The man's eyes narrowed a bit, clearly recognizing the name, but apparently not the person speaking it.

"Detective Knight, Metro Homicide," the figure coolly informed him, "You're infringing on a secured crime scene area. I suggest you leave--_now_."

"But..."

Coincidence or perhaps a look alike? Andrew's eyebrows quirked upwards as he looked the officer up and down, studying him closely as best he could in the bad light. This was de Brabant--he just knew it was. Yet the clothing, the whole attitude was... "Wait... Did you just say your name was _Knight_?"

Looking none to pleased, the officer brought forth a badge with picture i.d. There, neatly in print, it did proclaim him to be one Nicholas B. Knight of the Toronto Metropolitan P.D.

Nicholas B Knight: a plains-clothed cop. Father--of course! Toronto, 1996! De Brabant had taken on the identity of a homicide cop. He _had_ gone back in time!

"Look, I don't need any trouble from you or _them_ here. Go find somebody else to hunt."

"But..?"

"_Leave_!" the mysteriously transformed de Brabant toothily snarled as his finger tightened on the weapon's trigger mechanism.

"Okay...okay..." Andrew put his hands up and slowly backed off, not wanting to test just how real the gun's bullets were in this new situation. With his fourth step the scene disappeared--

* * *

--to become a jungle.

Through the foliage Andrew could see an American Red Cross soldier reassuring a motley group of Asian children as he administered vaccine shots. He stepped forward, and the American turned to face him, his bright smile evaporating into a grimace as he switched the hypodermic in his hand in favor of holding a rifle, briskly marching over to put himself between the children and this intruder.

"Halt!"

It was him again.

"Nicholas?"

"Nick Parker, U.S. Red Cross," the rifle never wavered from his chest. "Don't come any closer!"

"But you're De Brabant, aren't you? Where are we?"

The vampire looked shocked at hearing the name, but recovered quickly, his grip tightening on the rifle. "Bin Loc," the vampire crisply informed him, "Don't give me a story about being lost! I know what you are."

Vietnam, Andrew knew then, having seen his share of angelic duty in the terrible battles fought here. He was in Vietnam during the so-called 'Cold' War. Not that 'temperature' had had any effect on the amounts of death.

But this wasn't possible, surely? Never had the Father allowed human or angel to travel back in time.

"You're with Lacroix, aren't you?" Nicholas sneered. "Well, remind my _father_ and the others that we have an agreement. The children are off limits. I won't allow them to be harmed. Now leave us be."

"Nick..."

"GIT!"

* * *

Andrew got. And found he was in another locale: an American university in Chicago.

A female student raced past intent on stopping one of the faculty members as he is stepping into his car: a 1950's model. This time Andrew was not surprised to see who the man was.

"Professor Forrester!" the girl yelled.

'Forrester' smiled wanly as he waited for the student.

"It's not true...is it?" she asked him. "You're being a Communist, I mean?"

The blond teacher sighed. "No, Angie, it's not true. But with McCarthy stirring up all this fear...well, I'm afraid I've already been given notice by the dean. I have to leave." His eyes narrow as he spots Andrew. Excusing himself, he left his vehicle to walk stiffly over to the watching angel.

"Well, well...I'm surprised he hasn't come to gloat in person," de Brabant glared at him. Tell Lacroix I know he was behind this...this elaborate scheme to force me out again! But I won't come back to him---I won't. I may have to leave Chicago and this life---but he can't force me to leave with him! Tell him that!" Slamming the car door closed, he sped away.

Memories, Andrew realized, as the University faded around him. "I'm seeing de Brabant' blood memories and somehow becoming part of them. But were they supposed to be this detailed? He'd gotten the impression that they would be like viewing vague images and feelings---not a digitally re-mastered version of 'You Are There'.

When the scene changed again, the angel didn't even blink.

* * *

Now, he was standing in expensive hotel lobby.

Andrew spotted an information desk with newspaper.

Los Angeles, California. 1922

Seeing Janette enter the room, Andrew moved behind a pillar so as not to be seen. The lovely vampiress didn't even notice him as she made a beeline for a rather dejected looking de Brabant sitting on one of the lobby couches. The knight scowled when she hesitantly sat down beside him.

"Please don't look at me like that, Nicholas. I did it for you."

"Oh that's nice," Nicholas snorted in disgust, his arms and legs tightly crossed as he glared at her, "as long as you betrayed me 'for my own good."

"I know I promised that I wouldn't tell where you'd gone---I even asked him to forget you...that he could get another. Lacroix was furious. He said that he didn't want another---only you." The Parisian wrung her gloved hands. "Oh, Nicola, you know how he gets when you run away! And I was frightened that maybe he was right. You _do_ need us to watch out for you. I still have nightmares of our having to rescue you from the clutches of that horrible 'scientist' you gave yourself ov--"

"_That_ was nearly a century ago! What I needed _now--_" her disgruntled sibling said through gritted teeth, "was to be alone. And I was---for all of 24 hours here! Damn it, I'm not a child anymore, Janette!"

"Non?" Janette's eyes flashed with her own brand of ire. "Sometimes I wonder. First you refuse to feed from any but the vilest of humans, now this silly business of searching for a cure." Relenting, knowing that he had a right to be angry at her, she softened her voice. "But, you know, Nicola, that to Lacroix you will always be his beloved child. You should be honored. He does not care for me half so much."

Nicholas sighed heavily and took her hand in his. "Oh, Janette... I put you in a hard position, and I'm sorry for that. And I can forgive your betrayal. But...I can't forget it. I'll never be able to forget it."

Janette turned her face into his shoulder, weeping softly as she knew he was not just attesting to the strength of vampiric memory. "I know...oh, Nicola...I know."

They loosely clung to each other in mutual misery, although for different reasons.

Andrew considered going to them, but then Lacroix returned. Latching onto one of Nicholas's arms, the Roman led them away "to procure dinner". And the scene changed again.

* * *

Nicholas, this time dressed in English garb circa 1883. He was cradling a black Rottweiller in his arm, and it was obvious the animal was dead. Andrew could see the bloody hole in its chest, and a little ways away, a branch with one roughly hewed end covered in gore. The knight's face was contorted in bitter mourning over the dark corpse, hands caressing the body. As Andrew moved closer he could hear de Brabant's whispering voice.

"Raleigh...Raleigh.....oh, god...my poor Raleigh....I'm so sorry... Why didn't you stay away from me? You, didn't you listen though.. why did you have to make yourself my friend? Damn him... how could he do this to me! Damn you, Lacroix... jealous of even my stinking... lousy ......dog." The words faded as the vampire's body became wracked with harsh sobs, great fistfuls of ebony fur clutched in each hand.

Andrew swallowed at the terrible display of loss before him. Here must be the memory his friend had mentioned. The angel was loathing intruding on the knight in his grief for his canine companion, but... the Spirit was nudging him to say something.

"He looks to have been a beautiful animal," Andrew commiserated. "It is a shame to have had to put him down."

Wiping a grimy sleeve over his face, de Brabant squinted at him with red-rimmed eyes. "I had to...my master turned him carouche." He sniffled, "the bloodlust made him into a rabid killer. I had to stop...the innocent people being killed... I had..." The rest caught in the knight's throat to rendering him silent.

"Of course you did." Andrew agreed. "But he was a good dog before the madness took him, wasn't he? You put him down cleanly." Nicholas nodded, stroking the black fur. "He accepted me just as I was...he didn't care that I'm a monster. He...he... loved me. And I...I loved him. I shouldn't have loved him back." Inhaling deeply, he fought to gain a dispassionate air. "I mean...he was just a dog, right? Dog's are for breakfast...and only at the worst of times..."

Andrew made a face of disgust at the very idea. What an awful sentiment to hold! "Who told you that?"

"Lacroix. He found me sharing my cabin with Raleigh. I should have known---sent Raleigh away. Pretended he meant nothing to me. My master doesn't want me to care for anyone or anything but him. I hate him. He made me kill my best friend..." De Brabant's blue eyes considered him for a moment before asking, "Do I know you, sir?"

"Distantly," Andrew was guarded replied, mindful of the response he had gotten last time. He didn't want to be shut out again. "I'm looking for a knight. He looks a lot like you, but younger, and wearing a silver-crossed tunic and a blue cloak."

"A knight?" Nicholas mused. "I haven't heard tale of any in these parts, sir---least not the kind you speak of. Only person I've seen besides you and Lacroix was a Mr. Arthur C. Doyle who almost became poor Raleigh's victim."

"Oh..." Andrew helped him up. "Do you need any help with...?" he gestured at the corpse.

"No, thank you anyway," Nicholas gave a wan smile. "I'll just take him somewhere private until the sunrise comes. And sir?" Andrew nodded for him to continue. "Good luck finding your knight."

"Thank You--" Andrew started to say, only to find he was talking to the wall of a root cellar.

* * *

"Hello, is she hiding you too?"

Turning around so that he faced Nicholas (for who else would it be?), Andrew nodded, hoping that the young vampire would supply him with information quickly enough to grasp the situation of this memory.

"Is she doing so for you?" he nonchalantly asked, silently wondering to himself: When is this?

_1820 France_

_(Thank you, Father.)_

"Yes..." de Brabant smiled, "though I don't understand why. I mean, it was clear enough that that mob was after me, and all Marise had to do was ask them why I was being hunted."

"Bad?" Andrew asked solicitously, hoping to encourage him to talk more. At least his assignment hadn't reverted back to using threats to drive him away--yet.

Shuddering, Nicholas glanced towards the shuttered window that was situated just above ground level. "You didn't see? They were hot on our heels when Lacroix directed that we split up." He shrugged. "My darn luck to have drawn the majority of them to myself and good thing Janette elected to stay in Paris rather than travel abroad with us, or she'd be out there too." Nicholas smiled in explanation, "I'm sorry. Janette's my sister, you see. She's actually got a couple of centuries on me, but our sire isn't always as fast to give her aid as I'd like. He's even been willing to leave her behind at times. Lacroix can take care of himself, but I worry about Janette. She's not always as tough as she'd like everyone to think." He looked pensively at the door---the only one that led out of the cellar. "The human girl, Marise, seems such a pretty, young thing... is not often out of the convent, I'd wager. She offered me food and water---which I managed to appear as if I was eating... I hope she'll be alright."

"Why wouldn't she be?"

"Hiding fugitives from a mob for starters?" the vampire quipped, though quickly sobered. "Too...Lacroix is nearby. Since Marise is helping me, I don't think he'll hurt her..." he gave a troubled frown "but you can never know with Lacroix. It all depends on his mood---and how hungry he is."

Andrew laid a hand on his shoulder. "And the thought of her death upsets you?"

"I... would you think me crazy for saying yes?" Nicholas ducked his head, intent on his fingers. "She's such an innocent girl. And kind..." Giving a flippant gesture he flopped into a wooden chair. "Lacroix would call me foolish for even thinking of her as other than a snack, but... I suppose she reminds me a little of Jeanne." De Brabant's smile flitted between amusement and longing, fingers caressing the wood of the chair back. "Or how she might have been as young woman living in a convent."

As Andrew opened his mouth to ask just who this 'Jeanne' was, the cellar faded into black.

"Oh, no---not again! Every time I feel as if I'm getting somewhere--" he grumbled as the scenery changed yet again.

* * *

He was inside a chapel. A woman was also there, praying fervently when de Brabant stalked up behind her. The woman whirled to confront him.

"You've been following me," she accused him, yet did not seem very concerned about being alone in her stalker's presence.

"Yes. I couldn't help myself," this de Brabant replied with a menacing air. Indeed, Andrew could feel the difference in him here... there was none of the angsty vampire now.

When?

_1428_ the Father's whisper informed him.

Almost 400 years prior to the preceding memory, Andrew mused. Nicholas seemed to be everything Lacroix could want, imposing, uncaring about anything human. Distant. If this callous creature was what he was at one time...what had changed him?

Is this an important event in his life?

_Very much so. _

The girl continued talking: "I could feel someone...something..."

"Hmm. Were you frightened?" Nicholas taunted. "Is that why you stopped to hide...Hmm?"

"I am not _hiding_," the woman corrected. _"_I stopped to pray for a safe journey. I'm going to meet with the Dauphin in Vaucouleur."

Moving forward like a panther preparing to strike, de Brabant grabbed her shoulders to spin her around. "It's a shame. I don't think you'll ever arrive."

His victim looked at him, unafraid. "I have no fear of you."

"You should," he rejoined, smiling wide enough to display his fangs for her.

"No. My grandmother used to tell me of the ancient creatures cursed to spend eternity in darkness. You are Nicholas of Brabant-- the man of the night."

He looked at her with disdain. "You think I'm _cursed_? No... I will live _forever_."

"Oh, yes, very, because you are afraid of salvation," she agreed. "You--who choose to live forever--live in constant fear of death." She looked him in eyes as she firmly asserted, "I do not. I will pray for you, Nicholas. I will pray for us both."

With that, she began to walk away, out of the chapel.

Nicholas called after her, obviously impressed by the way she had stood up to him even after he had revealed his true nature to her.

"Courage?! What is your other name?"

"Jeanne...d'Arc."

Andrew started. Joan of Arc! He hadn't recognized her. In heaven, she was so beautiful---glowing with the light of God's grace. A joy to talk to-- never doubting the Father's word, little, brave Joan.

De Brabant looked about the chapel as the church bells began to ring. A large wooden cross seemed to capture his attention, and he reached for it in a questioning manner. Still some distance away, his fingers caught fire, and it was all Andrew can do not to rush forward to aid him as he let out an agonized cry of pain that echoed around the place of prayer.

* * *

The chapel image warped into that of the inside of a stone room.

Now when?

_Only a couple of years have passed_

"Nicholas."

It was Joan again, now dressed in her battle armor.

"Well," Nicholas smirked, acknowledging her greeting, "you're a very different person from the last time we met.... a heroine now."

"A heretic, they say," the Frenchwoman corrected.

"Well, they do have a point." Nicholas concurred, "After all, why would God reveal his plans through a farmer's daughter?"

Casually, Jeanne answered back, "Why did he send his son to us as a carpenter?" Nicholas did not acknowledge her win, choosing instead to change the subject.

"And so you'll die a martyr...and I'm sure that will please you _very_ much."

She turned away from him, her face shadowed with sorrow. "What would please me very much is to be back in Doremy with my family." Her immortal companion pounced on the confession like it was a bleeding wound.

"So you _are_ afraid of dying. Life isn't so everlasting now,"---he leaned in closer to her, tempting---"But I can give it to you....A life that never ends....A power beyond your imagination..." His mouth moved closer to her neck, seductive, promising...

His would-be fledgling rebuffed him firmly, much to his displeasure---and surprise.

"Don't."

"Why throw your life away for _the church_?" he asked, almost angrily. "For some pious old men who would lie to you? How can you do that?"

"If my death is necessary to keep the church strong, so be it. I will live on in the hereafter."

"How can you be so sure your God will be waiting for you on the other side?" Nicholas sniffed.

Jeanne's eyes practically shone with the light of her conviction.

"Faith...pure, simple, faith."

She held out a crude wooden cross to him, thick sticks bound together by a leather thong, "Take this to remember me by. To remind you that the faith you have lost is always there to regain."

But Nicholas grabbed her wrist to hold it away from him, his eyes filled with fear; so Jeanne knelt down to place it on the floor instead, never taking her eyes off of his, willing him to understand. Then she left.

Warily circling the larger cross, de Brabant knelt down beside Jeanne's smaller version, looking confused and angry all at once.

The vampire's posture revealed his silent thoughts: This is nonsense. She's mad. How can she believe in this?" His whispered breath turned wistful. "How can _I_ believe in this.....again?"

* * *

Andrew looked thoughtfully as the memory seemed to freeze without melting right away into another.

_Father, I know he lost his faith during the horrors of the Crusades and from things before. Did Joan give it back to him?_

_She planted the seed, my Angel. It slowly grew within him until it bloomed anew in 1996._

_But it died again with his girlfriend Dr. Lambert?_

_Faith does not replace common sense, Andrew. As is his wont, he leapt ahead without waiting for Me._

_Are the memories done, Father? What do I do now?_

Andrew waited for an answer hoping he wasn't going to be subjected to all de Brabant's 800 years of remembrances. But instead of his Father's welcomed voice, a dark, shadow began to engulf everything.

And within the darkness... something sinister... laughed.

* * *

_**Review Answers:**_

**Elendil: **doh! Argh... I missed that from the original posting. Back then, it was a long time between those posts so I inserted that to remind the forum readers who Divia was in relationship to Lacroix. Thanks, and it's been shortened now.

**Louis Pastiche:** -lol- When you mentioned Doyle before, I was thinking it was because I already had this part up. Through me for a loop to realize I hadn't. –grins-

* * *

_**Mary Rose: **I get to start appreciating Mr. Too-Old-And-Powerful-For-That and then I go and watch that episode and end up wanting to take a stake to LC all over again. –Lol-_

_**Louie Pastiche:** Um..um... Yes--- you got it--- that was Andrew's fault! (Will fix hopefully at same time upload 21)_

_-grumbles- yes, well this latest one left me exasperated. I'm still not at all satisfied with it, but don't want to delay the story any longer. Sorry for the dryness of it._

_**Alynna Lis Eachann: **Nick is both poor and blessed. As much of a pain in the neck as Lacroix is, the fact remains that Nick would have been killed centuries before if LC wasn't constantly keeping watch over the impetuous knight. You have to give LC that. (growls) even if he did make Nick kill his dog.  
_


	16. The Enemy Within

**7/24/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.  
**

* * *

Chapter 16: The Enemy Within

As the laughter reverberated in the air, the darkness slithered over and around him, like a serpent of thought inspecting its prey.

_"And who do we have herrre?"_ it asked.

Andrew felt the hairs on his neck bristle at the sound which seemed both female and male somehow. "Who are you?" he asked it, seeing nothing but...well, _nothingness_. Was this another memory or something worse?

The voice chided, _"We asssked firrrst."_

"Very well, I'm Andrew," he warily answered, "a friend of Nicholas."

More laughter that was menacing and unsettling as it mocked the angel.

_"Frrriend?"_ the voice snickered, _"Nicholas has no __frrriends_."

"What do you mean?" Andrew shivered, not liking this at all. "He has lots of friends."

The feminine side rose in dominance, cackling with glee, _"Not after __I_--!" it began, then changed timber as it admonished itself, _"__WE_ neverrr forrrget _we__."_ It then reverted as the angel first heard it: monosexed, affirming to itself, _"We arrre. We ssshall surrrvive. Here. Fitting. Revenge. As I said."_

Andrew cleared his throat to get its--their?--attention back.

_"Still here, are you?" _The disembodied voice took on a prim attitude as that of a snobbish teacher. _"Vampires do not make friends. They make associations, family members, and...meals. Which arrre you? Why ask it that? It's just a meal, a snack, a 5-liter refreshment in Loafers. Orrr sssneakerrrs. True. Yess, we arrre always rrright. The remnants of a meal it is. So long since a decent one. Ourrr influence? Flatterer."_

"A _friend_," Andrew reaffirmed to the disembodied voice, getting annoyed now as well as afraid of the insane chatter.

_"Insistent isn't it? Yesss...we think ssso. But amusing. Forr a passsing mealll. Much better than cow memories, this. Tell us, __friend _Andrew, what are you doing here?"

"Trying to help Nicholas..." he began, only to be cut off.

_"Trying to help? Trying..." _the voice dissolved into laughter. _"Fool. Yesss, we agree. Fool! Oh, but wait---trying to help do what? Yesss...what?"_

"Return to God---Father Jehovah---the true Master of his soul."

The sniggers swiftly changed into a long, drawn out hiss, rich with loathing. _"Not amusing! NOT! And he held so much prrromissse. A pity. But still a fool. Yesss, still a fool. We agree. He isss of no consssequence."_

Struggling to understand the voice (voices?) Andrew felt another chill go through him. "What do you mean? Explain! Who are you?"

_"Shall we?"_ the voice conferred with itself. _"Oh, why not...it may be amusssing. Yes..do it!"_

* * *

The blackness shattered, rearranging into a mosaic of black and gray images, as with poor grades of digital photos. People talking, shouting. Now what was happening? Concentrating, Andrew recognized...

Detective Knight watching an exorcism as part of a case. The possessed man suddenly stared at him, declaring "You are MINE!"

De Brabant in the Raven, first kissing then throttling a female vampire before being interrupted by La Croix, who sets the vampiress free while praising his son for coming back into the fold.

"Please help me, La Croix. I can't control myself."

"Good. Although a little more discretion might be in order."

"Something's happened. Something terrible. It was an exorcism. It wasn't mine, but I was there. Something happened. I think the demon came into me."

"Don't be ridiculous, Nicholas. It is merely your true nature coming into form."

"No!"

"Listen to me, Nicholas. There are no such things as demons and devils."

His son continued to plead with his sire to take him back to the exorcist before he was destroyed by it.

* * *

The disembodied voice broke in as the scene momentarily froze. _"La Croix was alwaysss so serious. Not like Nicholas---such passssion, such pathosss, such...lovely anguish. A pity Vanderwal cut the fun short. And that woman. Oh, yesss... herrr."_

Andrew frowned in confusion. He decided to just watch the 'movie' as the voices seemed to want.

De Brabant was strapped to a table with La Croix close by as the exorcist; Dr. Max Vanderwal--an ex-communicated priest turned exorcist talked to him:

"Yes, I suppose it could be possible after all," the human mused aloud. "You see, the Devil doesn't just go away. He always seeks refuge. Usually, in the conflicted---those who wage war with themselves. It's this inner turmoil that opens the door in which the demon may enter. You don't want to believe any of this do you?" he noted, seeing the look on the other's face.

"My thoughts on the matter are irrelevant." the Roman refuted him. "I'm merely _indulging_ Nicholas."

"Look, whether we speak literally or figuratively, God and the Devil reside in each of us. The question is," the exorcist rhetorically asked, "which one of them is motivating us."

"Are you going to do this or not?!" the vampire father groused.

"Which one?" Vanderwal emphasized the question, turning back to his patient. "Nicholas. Look at me. Is that you, Nicholas?

"Yess," hissed an unworldly sound from the bound knight's throat.

The exorcist frowned down at him, clearly not convinced. "Why don't I believe you? What is your name?"

"I am the ssson of Belial."

Stepping away, the ex-priest conferred with the older 'man'.

"The demon in him is very powerful. I need your help, Mr. La Croix."

"This is all nonsense," the Ancient sneered, yet looked worriedly at his son, forced to acknowledge that something was seriously amiss with his favorite child.

"And yet you are here," Vanderwal pointed out to him. "Because you feel compelled? Grief? Are you responsible for his turmoil? Did you open the door to let the Devil into him? The Devil you tried so hard to dismiss? Help me. Help _him_," the former priest half pleaded, half commanded.

A torn look from Lacroix told his answer before the words did.

"I can't."

"He knows you," Vanderwal persevered, "he _trusts_ you. That may be the only thing, for at the end, we may lose him."

Sick laughter from the table:"He iss alrrraeady llost Nicholas belongsss to mee. He iss miine. He no longer needsss you, Luciuss."

The nasty taunt provoked La Croix into revealing the Vampire as he hotly contested with what appeared to be Nicholas, yet was not. "He is my creation--- _my_ son! I won't let you take him from me!"

"You, too?" The exorcist gasped.

Displeased with his lack of control, the General growled back, "Yes."

"No wonder you try so hard not to believe. To admit the Devil is to admit God, and yet, you see both before you."

"You are weak, La Croix," the demon crowed in delight. "Nicholass iss weak. You have not power over me."

Curious, Vanderwal asked, "What made you choose this one, demon?"

"De Brabant hasss been many people," the demon replied with relish. "All of them, killerss. But insside he iss resstrained by some sssickening moral conssciencce. He wantss to destroy again. Oh...Nicholasss and I will make a fine pair. He has grrreat potential." It loosed a demented chuckle. "I have revived, revived the vampire'ss tasste. I have revived the vampire'ss tasste for death. All this goodness in him, it hass been driven out. I will be with him forever!"

"Fight, Nicholas!" the General commanded his child.

"Thiss iss not your fight, La Croix. You are one of usss. You belong to usss."

La Croix ignored it, reaching for the Nicholas he knew.

"Listen to me, Nicholas. There is good in you! There is God in you! Use it!"

_("Sssickening," Andrew heard his host's voice mutter near his ear. "And then that morrrtal trrrollop ssshowed up.")_

A woman with brunette hair burst in upon the scene seconds after the demon managed to break the bonds that kept it on the table. The demon used Nicholas' body to thrust her against a wall, poised to bite.

"'Nick?" The woman looked scared--- something that Andrew could hardly blame her for as Nicholas's fangs came close to her jugular vein.

The woman strove to remain calm as she spoke to him, "Nick, don't. It's me. Natalie."

Stumbling away from her, Nicholas gulped for air.

"Nat? Where?" De Brabant spotted the priest and stammered, "Dr. Vanderwal, what...?"

"It is gone," the exorcist assures him. "Nicholas, you're back. You're back."

The brunette, Natalie Lambert, looked between them and La Croix, clearly unsure of what they were doing. "Oh, my God, Nick. What happened?"

Dr. Vanderwal smiled at her through his exhaustion as he answered, "For the Devil to be driven out, my dear lady, one must first believe that God has not abandoned his soul. Torn as he is by good and evil, Nick does have faith.. Mr. La Croix, your acceptance of that helped to save him."

"I did what was necessary to reclaim him," Lacroix looked about, clearly uncomfortable and just wanting to get out of there.

"Yes. Of course you did." the ex-priest agreed with a disappointed air.

_"You see! You see, Andrew?!"_ the voices angrily proclaimed as the images reverted back into nothingness. _"Such a wassted opportunity. Although...We did manage to rrreawaken his thirrrst for human blood, didn't we? And it worked out ssso well. Not well enough. Oh, don't complain! My turn!"_

The images reformed.

* * *

A room that was clearly, a warehouse loft converted into an open-style living area. It was sparsely furnished with a Harley motorcycle and grand piano in one corner by a large sliding door. A massive, wood fireplace mantel looms over a gas-powered pit, its surface decorated with 3-D carvings of gnomes and a Chinese dragon. In the center sat a black leather couch and a coffee table along with a large entertainment center. A small, but tidy kitchen was to one side. Windows with industrial strength security blinds. Two sets of stairs lead to an upper room. Against the wall, stacks of paintings with an easel holding up the latest offering patiently waiting to join that collection: a fiery red and yellow sun motif.

De Brabant's home, Andrew theorized, and not very long ago either, from the modern looks of the entertainment devices.

His hypothesis was borne out when the blond-haired vampire slid open the lift doors and walked inside, peeled off his long, dark, outer jacket and threw it unto the couch as he snatched up a remote. A click started the fireplace going; warm flames for a cold room.

Suddenly he froze and looked up at the staircase. A young girl---maybe 14 or 15 years old---in a black leather outfit was regarding him with a chilling smile...

"Divia...?"he queried the intruder.

She acknowledged his guess with a slight incline of her chin.

"Lucius told you about me. How I made him mine as Vesuvius tried to snuff his life out. How he repaid me by 'killing' me when all I asked for was...a show of affection." She stalked towards him; a bipedal feline on the hunt. "You know why I'm here."

Nicholas swallowed, but stood his ground.

"You've come to kill me," he said with false calm, "your vow to murder or drive away everyone close to him."

"Don't take it personally, but you _are_ La Croix's son: his favorite. Your death will be the final blow. After this, he will have no one but me." She smiled sweetly at him, an angelic face infused with demonic madness. "It will be worse for you if you try to fight me. But that's up to you. Ready?"

As Nicholas stood there in shock at this display of callous evil, Divia struck at his head then easily tossed the much larger vampire over the couch where his right hand landed in the fireplace and caught fire. Quickly pulling off his jacket to extinguish the flames, he was too busy to see his 'grandmother' leap on top of the coffee table in order to viciously kick him with a booted foot. De Brabant staggered backwards, only to have Divia fly behind him his burnt and bleeding form. Fangs bared, she bit deeply into his throat as he screamed in agony at the assault of her teeth and injected memories. Then she left him, mangled and prone on the carpet, his head resting atop the fallen picture of the sun.

Utterly still.

_"Sstupid of uss not to make ssure he wass truly dead,"_ the voice intoned. _"We bit him. He was as good as dead. Sshould have been! Yes... nasty awakening that."_

"How so," Andrew asked, trying to hide his horror now that he knew who these were: the spirit of Divia and the demon Legion. Somehow they were still aware in the lower psyche of their only surviving victim. They must have entered through Divia's tainted fluids after she'd bit Nicholas. It gave the term 'blood poisoning' a whole new meaning. Poor Nicholas! Was he even aware of what had happened to him-- of these loathsome parasites lurking within?

_"De Brabant,"_ the voice spat out in answer to the angel's voiced question. _"We had Lucius in our grasp, weak and defeated by the knowledge of our...activities. Ready for usss to deliver to Hell! But he was suddenly there---this mewling spawn of Lucius, this medieval anarchism of chivalry! ----destroying our body and keeping La Croix from coming to our aid when we asked for it! Damn him for that! And damn Lucius for choosing him over hisss daughter!"_ Throaty snarls unlike the sounds of any feline devised by God. _"But we have won, haven't we? We exissst within! Growing stronger! And Nicholas shall pay an eternity for his crimes. And ssuch crimes! He rejected us! He lived! Defiance of my will!"_ the separated voice screeched in unison. _"Yesss...revenge isss ssweet. And torture ssso pleasssurable!"_

The combined voice shouted, so loud Andrew had to cover his ears.

_"NNNIIICCCHHHOOOLLLAAASSS! COME!"_

A ball of blackness formed within the Darkness, its shape writhing as if something was held inside and trying to break free. A length of shining metal burst through, hacking away, until a very disheveled 13th Century-garbed Nicholas de Brabant was violently spewed out to tumble on the 'floor'. Well, 13th Century with the exception of the metallic restraint from the room at the Raven. Rolling over to regain his footing, the knight swung his broadsword around in an erratic circle, unruly hair flying about his desperate face.

"Démons! Choses de Vile! Qu'avez-vous fait maintenant? Combat honorablement! Faites- facemoi!"

("Demons! Vile things! What have you done now?! Fight honorably! Face me!")

A wisp of darkness wrapped around the metal band and bit of titanium chain encasing his torso, viciously tugging him around until he fell on his knees. Blue eyes glistened with pain when an invisible force knocked his head back as if he had been backhanded. He panted hard, only one arm stubbornly keeping him from falling totally on his back.

_"Is that 'facing' enough? Aaahh, de Brabant....how good of you to join our little Tête a-Tête,"_ the voice smirked.

Groaning, Nicholas nevertheless shot back, "I...won't...let...you...have me."

_"Poor, Nicholas..."_ the feminine side crooned as the dark shape caressed his bruised cheek. He tried to pull away. _"Oh..does it hurt? Let grandma make it all better. Give all of yoursself to usss. Why fight it? Why, sssuffer? Everyone you loved is dead anyway. You killed them."_

"No!"

_"Is this the champion of Honor and Truth speaking?"_ the voice cruelly laughed. _"Shall we show your latest victim more of your prior selves? How you killed your very wife upon your wedding night?"_

The knight's eyes widened and then shut in private pain as the memory of a splendorous 16th Century wedding in Austria was replayed for them: Nicholas in white clothing joined to a golden-haired beauty that would have made Aphrodite jealous.

"Alyssa..." the knight groaned.

_"She adored you. Her gentle man of a husband-to-be."_ the voice giggled as the woman walked with her new lord, adoring eyes never leaving his.

"Stop...."

_"Oh, but you weren't a __man were you, Nicholas, as she soon found out on your bed. Yet ssstill the little fool trrrusted you, even when you ssshowed herrr what ssshe had trrruly trrrusted herrrssself to. Trusted you--"_

The woman fainted in her lover's arms as she was drained in their wedding chamber.

"Stop it! Please..."

_"..to know what you were doing---a vampire trying to rebound from the rejection of his lady love just 30 years earlier. She was to be your new and faithful wife; you, her loving husband and master. How could ssshe know that you had neverrr trrried to bring acrrrosss anyone beforrre?"_

A distraught de Brabant, cradling his dead lover, begging her to come back to him, but she didn't stir.

"Alyssa..."

_"Dead by your incompetence. And she wasn't the last was she?"_

"No..." the knight hugged himself, sobbing, "no..."

"LEAVE HIM ALONE, IN THE NAME OF JEHOVAH!"

Screaming like a banshee, the vile blackness retreated from the knight as a Andrew ran over to stand protectively over the huddled being. The angel's body was covered in a feeble blue glow shielding him against the encompassing darkness, he pointed an accusing finger at it, voice shaking in righteous anger.

"How _dare_ you torment him this way. You have no right to judge!'

_"Right?! RIGHT?!"_ the voice screamed back. _"We have every right! We were here firrsst! It is you who intrude! By what __right doesss an Angel of Him interfere--- and an Angel of Death at that? You are far too late to claim him!"_

Intent as he was on confronting the demons, Andrew failed to see the look of horror that filled de Brabant's face as he stared up at Andrew, his mouth soundlessly forming the question: _Angel of Death_? Grabbing his sword, he scuttled far enough away to gain his feet and took off before Andrew could say anything to explain.

The angel groaned. Terrified of death, Nicholas would not easily listen to him now.

Turning his back on the demonic blackness, he raced after the de Brabant only to run into an invisible wall.

_"Angelll of God,"_ the voices ranted behind him, _"leave! We havvve played by the rrrrullles---His own rrrrrules! Nicholass iss ours."_

Frustrated at losing sight of Nicholas yet again, Andrew banged his fist against the barrier so hard his 'body' actually jumped up a few inches from the force of the blow. Whirling he confronted the Evil.

"I have had it up to _here_ with this! What right are you claiming?" He watched warily as the Darkness circled him, keeping a healthy distance from his muted glow.

Despite his fear-numbing anger, Andrew wished God's light could shine a bit more brightly. Legion was a strong compilation of demons while Divia was another brand of horror.

_"This time we entered a vampire asss isss allowed."_ the Darkness began. _"Divia's madness freely let usss in.! Through her, we entered Nicholas. There is NOTHING in the agreement that says a vampire must agree to an entering by another vampire. Vanderwaal cannot remove us thiss time! Not even HE has the right to oust us now. You can not call on that name to do so.!"_

"Agreement..." Andrew crossed his arms, determined not to budge until he understood everything. "Tell me about this agreement."

Loud cackling filled the darkness.

_"Angel--- you do not __know?_ _It isss an agrrreement nearly asss old asss Man himssself."_

"Really? Tell me of it."

_"Why ssshould we?"_ the demon taunted. _"Go assk your masster. Leave usss to what iss oursss!"_

"No," Andrew told it. "You don't own de Brabant. You may be parasites within him, but he has not given in to you. You don't own him, otherwise..." he paused as the truth of his thought sank in. "I couldn't be here."

_"Not __yet," _the voice sourly agreed. _"But it isss only a matter of time. And we have plentyof that."_ It giggled gleefully at the frowning angel. _"We will own him fully thisss time. Then what carnage we will loosssen! The blood will run freely and Man ssshall fall as an empty corpsse. Earth will belong sssoley to our kind!"_

"We'll see about that," the Angel of Death confidently stated, as he called upon the Glory of his Father to allow him to break through the demon's invisible wall. The blue glow around him brightened as he was able to move forward. Gasping as he emerged from the other side, Andrew looked in dismay at where he was.

A sterile jail cell.

* * *

_**Review Answers:**_

_**Tracey: **Some like 'em, some don't. What's a writer to do? –smiles- I honestly thought about culling some of them, but then remembered that what I write is all some readers will know of Forever Knight. Sure it can be boring for those who saw the series. The flashback's are for those who haven't—and in the above case, explain part of the plot. It would be like trying to explain American culture without delving into American History. You now know why Nicholas has not gotten better despite the earnest attempts of family and friends._

_All I can say is if you don't like them.... Scan through the paragraphs or stop reading altogether. Because I still have at least Last Knight to do. I think that's the last one, but I'm still editing and it's been two years since I've read the original copy._

_**Alynna Lis Eachann: **Lacroix is one of those people you have to get to know first before you develop at least a grudging liking for him. Or, at least respect. It was interesting during the first season that we saw him only through Nicholas's wounded psyche. Later, we saw why LC acted the way he was. Bit of a spoiler... Joan will show up again later and not in a flashback._


	17. Interrogation & Dark Prophecy

**7/24/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.**

* * *

**A/N ALERT! Unholy Crud! Lord only knows how many years have gone by where I didn't realize that Interrogation was missing from here. Nobody said anything that it went directly from a mention of a jail cell to Stonehenge?! (Or maybe that last reviewer was the only reader since I tried to 'fix' this last time.)** How depressing.

Part 17: The Interrogation

Andrew was tempted to just rest his head against the cell wall and let out a protracted groan. This assignment seemed to be going on forever, and he sorely missed the companionship of Tess and Monica.

"Father, I'm tired," he sighed, "I don't want to give up, but I don't know how much longer I can keep going. I feel like I'm getting nowhere."

_I know. Let me be your strength._

The warm glow of Jehovah's love touched his mind. He felt much better.

"Thank you, Father."

Footsteps sounded closer as shoe soles rhythmically met against tile. Moments later that Nicholas who was--or had been--acclaimed Homicide Detective Knight was intently watching him through the spaces in the vertical metal bars of the holding cell.

"I told you to leave," the cop coldly reminded his 'prisoner'. Obviously, he considered it was the angel's fault that he had ended up here.

"Yeah," Andrew agreed with a yawn, running a hand through his hair to brush it back, "I've noticed that 'get lost stranger' seems to be the unanimous sentiment around here."

"I..." Nicholas seemed about to apologize, but instead coughed noisily as he stuffed his hands deep into his jacket pockets, his gaze fixing onto the emptier side of the cell.

"Who are you really?"

Drawing closer to the bars until he could grab them with his hands, Andrew intentionally moving into the other's line of sight.

"A friend."

Nicholas pursed his lips as he mulled that over, but averted his eyes yet again, refusing to look at the angel.

"Was that really... you there...when...my....when Raleigh..." he struggled to get the words out, the hurt ever a fresh wound to one cursed with his kind's perfect memory.

"In a way," Andrew smiled, praying that his assignment was going to open up a little more. He couldn't help if he was going to be kept locked outside. Or 'inside' as the case might be.

The detective shuffled his feet a little, looking very uncomfortable.

"Are you going to let me out, Nicholas?" Andrew asked, indicating the cell. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"I'm not so convinced of that," was the rebuff. Their eyes briefly met, inadvertently allowing Andrew to see the flicker of fear within the cobalt-blue of de Brabant's eyes. "You said you were an angel… an... Angel of Death. Were you there to take Raleigh to Hell?"

"No. Never, Nicholas," Andrew quickly and firmly reassured him. "I was only looking for a certain knight when I stumbled upon that scene."

The vampire nodded his head in so absent a manner that the angel was not sure if his protest had been believed---or for that matter, heard.

"Do you know where I can find him? The knight, I mean?" Andrew asked as the silence between them threatened to take on greater length.

The blue eyes shot up to meet his, wide with alarm. They quickly found someplace else to fix upon---specifically, his own shoes. The answer was a barely audible, "Yes."

"Can you take me to him?"

"Perhaps." The vampire licked his lips, daring another quick glance at his captive. "You're not with...them?"

Andrew pressed against the cell bars, his face earnest.

"I give you my word and the word of Jehovah, Creator of All, that I have nothing to do with Divia or Legion or any of their ilk."

"Then are you going to be taking me to Hell?"

The last question was spoken so softly, yet the fear in it came out loud and clear: Nicholas thought Andrew had come to take him to Hell. Trapped within his own mind by the demon, he sought now to trap Andrew in it as well to avoid a fate deemed even worse than possession. What De Brabant didn't understand was that Andrew would never take anyone to such a ghastly place.

"No… of course not. Why should I take anyone there? Why would I want to? Nicholas, I came to help you. You must trust me."

"Trust?" De Brabant finally lifted his head to meet Andrew's eyes for an interval that lasted longer than a half second. "You ask for my trust? You're an Angel of Death! You've come looking for me…Death. So, then I'm finally dying---but if I die... If I die..." he closed his eyes and shuddered violently for a moment. "The Guide said I've not nearly begun to recompense for my sins yet. So if I let you go...if I go with you, it must be... to...Hell."

Andrew was aghast. For a precious few seconds he just stood there in the cell with his mouth hanging open. Finally, he found his tongue.

"Nicholas---listen to me, I'm not Death. Angels of Death are NOT the Grim Reaper--that figure is just a myth. We only escort souls to the Father; take them to be with Him in Heaven. Who lives and who dies....it's not for me to decide." He frowned. Something that de Brabant had said had brushed a memory that he couldn't quite grasp. "And just what's this Guide business anyway?"

The blood memory visage of a vampire playing detective gave him an incredulous look. "You claim to be an angel and you don't know about _that_?"

"Well, I've never heard of anyone named 'Guide'. And there is no Hell that I've ever heard souls sent to, Nicholas." He grinned and pointed to himself. "I'm sorta 'in the loop' about such matters, you know…part of the job?"

His jailer looked bewildered. "But...I've been there... met the Guide---twice." He gestured in agitation. He, she, it---exists!"

The vague memory stirred a little closer, bubbling to the surface. "Show me?" Andrew requested, "Show me the memories? It's important."

"I..." Nicholas hesitated, torn between fear and wanting desperately to have an understanding friend in this nightmare his life had become. "If I let you out...?"

Andrew nearly growled in exasperation, but settled for throwing up his hands above his head.

"Nicholas---I'm an Angel of God! Do you honestly think you're keeping me here without my or my Father's consent?" He let the illumination of God's Light show. It was only a little glow in this strange environment of memory, yet it was enough to make Nicholas take several steps back, his fangs automatically dropping in a defensive reaction to the 'threat' of a power the Vampire did not understand.

"Uh...no....I guess not," Nicholas admitted as he quirked a rueful smile. Sighing fatalistically, he briefly closed his eyes to recall a particular memory...

The cell evaporated until they were both standing on grayish sand. All around it was the same, colorless sky and hilly landscape. If not for the lake, it might have been mistaken for some drab section of the moon's surface.

Nicholas opened his eyes, looking around with dread. "Limbo... I came here once as a mortal after La Croix drained me. It happened a second time just a few years back via the help of a prototype Death Experience machine a scientist pioneered. But I was a vampire that second time, and the Guide said I no longer had the choice of entering Heaven until my sins were atoned for." He looked down at the sand at his feet. "So many...he showed me the crosses of all that I'd killed. I hadn't realized it was...quite so many. After..." his breath caught as he tried to surreptitiously wipe away a blood tear. "I'll never be able to repay the debt...earn forgiveness. I'm damned... lost."

Andrew looked away from the tantalizingly familiar scenery to give him a sympathetic look. "Oh, Nicholas, you're not lost....you don't need to earn--"

"He's here," de Brabant interrupted, looking to where a bright light had opened in the distance. "Come on, if you wish to see."

And they were suddenly close to the light---actually a wooden doorway with a brilliant light shining from somewhere inside, but Andrew couldn't see what beyond the opening. And not far from the doorway, a figure who looked exactly like La Croix wearing a Lawrence of Arabia getup. The being was standing beside an autopsy table currently supporting a maggot-infested corpse: a corpse that held the decay-bloated features of one Nicholas de Brabant.

"What is..?" Andrew began, repulsed by the macabre sight.

The vampire swallowed hard before explaining: "My soul. Or, rather, what's left of it." He looked several shades paler than normal as he spoke---even for one of his species.

Schooling his features to be devoid of expression, Nicholas made for the La Croix impersonator, but Andrew grabbed his arm, moving ahead of de Brabant so that he could confront this...'Guide' first.

The Guide looked upon him with annoyance, sneering in a tone that was a mirrored echo of that which was the Roman Elder's own.

"How did you get here?"

Andrew narrowed his eyes at the 'Guide'. "Does it matter? I'm here now"---he waved his hand about, indicating their surroundings---"and I remember seeing this before. Only last time you appeared as some pop-science angel: all ethereal and nondescript."

Confused, Nicholas looked from one to the other. "I thought you said you didn't know each other."

"I don't know him," Andrew grimaced, "however, I know what this is." With that he began to praise the Creator of All Living Things, thanking him for his Glory and his Truth.

And before them the 'Guide' twisted and shrieked, cursing at Andrew with every foul word it knew---which was a considerable vocabulary.

"Stop it!" de Brabant cried out, grabbing Andrew by the shoulder to make him stop. He was not going to watch something whose appearance was as his sire's be put in great pain. "You're hurting him!"

"That's not an angel of God, Nicholas. Would an angel of His protest the praising of His name? See beyond the illusion."

Nicholas looked back and recoiled at the black and misshapen thing cursing them. The demon---a schism of Legion's presence, Andrew guessed---glared at the angel with orange, bulbous eyes. It pointed a bony finger at him.

"Look what you've done!" the demon gibbered in its rage, indicating the gray, swirling cloud that had replaced everything save for the open doorway: a portal that now gave the light of a raging furnace and not that of a welcoming Paradise. "Eveeerything iss ruuuuined!"

Without preamble, de Brabant twisted about to put the softly glowing Angel of Death between himself and the burning sulfur, the tight grip on Andrew's shoulder now fueled by abject terror rather than anger.

"W-what happened?"

"It was all an illusion, Nicholas," Andrew informed him, keeping both eyes on the demon, but his ears attuned to the Father. "The first time was to get you to either willingly enter Hell, or become a vampire. The second time was to help drive you into despair so that they could control you."

He felt Nicholas' trembling through the hands fastened to him.

"Why? Why are they after me then if not for my crimes as a vampire?"

"Because your nature desired nothing but to be with God," Andrew told him. "He gave that gift to you, Nicholas. If the demons had not interfered in your life, you would have been one of those few who were able to hear his voice as we do. Understand, my friend, that it takes the twisting of a great Light to make the greatest Darkness. Remember Lucifer, the Covering Angel? He was the best of those in Heaven before he fell. And look how far he fell."

"I was going to be made into a Demon?!" Nicholas gasped, feeling weak. And here he had thought being turned into a vampire was the worst thing that could have happened to anyone. A demon? He felt sick!

"Not a demon," Andrew grimly corrected. "A demon-controlled vampire--which would be far worse. Demons and Angels only have so much authority here on Earth. That's why Satan always works through animals or people whenever he can. Humans are the only ones given dominion on Earth. But if all the people are removed...then the demons will claim it."

Nicholas frowned. "But vampires aren't human," he pointed out.

"But they are, Nicholas, they are to the Father. Most began as humans. You've never lost your inheritance as part of Man. It's your birthright no matter how your body is changed."

Tired of being ignored, the little demon began hopping up and down.

"You'll pay forrr thiss, Angel!" the demon shrieked at Andrew. "J'ranor will beee informed! We willl desstrroy youu!" Turning, it fled into the fiery light, the heavy wooden gate closing behind it.

Blowing out his cheeks, Andrew sagged in relief. If the little demon had not proven such a coward and had challenged him he didn't know what he would have done. Legion was right... God had no authority in Nicholas' mind. Not unless de Brabant gave it to Him.

'Nicholas de Brabant, are you willing to trust me now?"

The vampire looked grim as he sighed, "Do I have a choice?"

"God always allows a choice. But you must decide now. I can't stay here indefinitely."

Running one hand through his hair, Nicholas looked around at the nothingness for a moment, then back at the patiently waiting angel, thinking on all that he had seen.

"Okay."

And with that one, precious word of trust, Andrew found himself standing before a smaller cousin to Stonehenge.

* * *

Chapter 17b: Dark Prophecy

Andrew shivered a little at the cold breeze that was blowing across the tall, dead-looking grass of the new landscape. A little way to his right was a small lake, as gray as the overcast sky. To his left the top of an ancient castle could just be spied above the surrounding hills. Before him were massive gray stones; some upright and interlocking, others fallen on their sides.

Of Detective Knight there was no sign.

The angel wrapped his arms around his chest and actually wished he could have still been cast as a vampire on this dreamscape excursion since then he wouldn't be feeling the chill. Giving up trying to keep his own hair from assaulting his face as the wind lashed it around, Andrew called out, "Hello?!"

"Here," answered a melancholy voice speaking in Old French.

Moving around a stone to get to the center of the circle, Andrew saw the object of his quest sitting forlornly upon one of the fallen structures with his broadsword out and resting upon his knees. The knight's eyes were fixed upon its polished surface as his cloak was whipped back and forth against chain mail and woolen tunic. If he was bothered by the wind, the medieval warrior gave no sign.

"Chevalier de Brabant?" he asked cautiously.

"Don't worry. I won't hide from you again."

The knight indicated for Andrew to take a seat upon another fallen monolith close to his, speaking as soon as the angel had gotten as comfortable as one could while sitting upon cold stone.

"In 1220 I was sent here by my mortal father, Sir Henry de Brabant and by the Church to act in the service of attaché to my uncle Sir Hugh DeLebarre. Our mission---so I naively believed at the time---was to introduce Christianity to some pagans still living in the land of Wales. But my uncle and the religious authorities had other...objectives." He pointed out in a direction between the castle and the lake. "I had just arrived here, escorted by my uncle and some of his men, when I heard the most strangely haunting music. None of the others seemed to hear, but it touched me---called to my soul in a way music had never done before. I begged leave of my uncle to investigate. After gaining his, admittedly, reluctant permission, I rode towards the sounds."

Nicholas smiled a little, seeing a memory that remained closed to Andrew's eyes.

"She was standing just a few feet from where you are now, playing a swan harp of ash wood. Within seconds we were smitten with each other's smile. My tragic first love: Gwyneth."

Nicholas met the angel's eyes, his face sad. "She was their priestess, you see, and the keeper of their customs. As such, she was a barrier between my people and the object of their greed---these lands and the hard-working souls that tended them. Not to mention the fact that we were supposed to be enemies." Head down again, he absently followed the edge of his sword blade with his fingers tentatively coasting on the flat metal. "My uncle warned me not to see her anymore---that she was an enchantress who would bewitch me with her magic and lies. Perhaps I was already bewitched then, for I ignored his words and went again to see her that very night. Gwyneth looked so sad when I found her here at our trysting place. She said she had been to the soothsayer's and that she regretted our time would be short. I rebuked her for listening to such superstitious nonsense..." he gave a tiny sound of disgust at his own hypocrisy as he admitted, "yet could not forbear from asking what the soothsayer had said about me." Nicholas pressed his chin even tighter into his chest as a tear escaped his eye. "She said...she said that it had been prophesied that I would live a very long time....and that in all that time, I would never find happiness. She was right."

Getting up, de Brabant began walking briskly towards the nearby lake, making Andrew struggle to keep up.

"I thought her words were foolishness and left. But I woke suddenly early the next morning with the sense that something bad was about to happen to Gwyneth. I found her... over there... by the water... slain by a sword." Stopping at the water's edge, he angrily wiped the tear away. "The villagers found me then, with her in my arms and her blood on my hands. My uncle showed up too-- _to_ _save me_ _from their wrath_, he led me to believe. I was a murderer in their eyes, he told me, and would be put to death if I stayed. So he had me sent to fight in the Holy Wars as a sign of atonement for 'my grievous sin' and to expunge the blot on my family's name.....while he stayed to claim lordship of the land." Nicholas stabbed at the ground with the point of his weapon. "I was such a _fool_! I believed him, and in so doing set the prophesy in motion."

Solemnly, Andrew moved next to him and laid a comforting hand on the knight's shoulder. "You were not a fool, Nicholas. You were young and naive, true, but the young are often guilty of committing foolish acts." He smiled sheepishly as he admitted, "Even when they are angels."

Nicholas looked at him with surprise.

"How can an angel do something foolish? Are they not the wise messengers of God, moving only to do his will?'

"I wish!" Andrew groaned aloud, eliciting a sympathetic frown of concern from his Earth-born companion.

"How is it, angel? What have you done against His will?" Nicholas backed up a step in consternation. "I remember now--I felt you---you are a vampire too. What did you do to instill the wrath of God to fall to this?" He lifted his upper lip a little to touch one descended fang with an index finger.

Mentally taking the 'guilt mantle' from Nicholas' shoulders, Andrew wrapped it around himself, studying his own hands as if each had grown another thumb. "I blundered headlong into a situation that I had no business in and...I made a horrible mess of things because of it."

"Truly so?" Nicholas studied Andrew's remorseful face for a moment before returning his gaze to the lake. "It must have been an awful thing to be made as cursed as I."

"Oh, it was...." Andrew sighed. "It cost a man everything he had. Do you remember when we met?"

"Frankly, no." de Brabant admitted, "There was an accident a little while ago. It took Lacroix's help to bring back many of my memories from my changing on. I... um... I can't remember much of my mortal days save for things of momentous importance." Embarrassed by how that had sounded, he quickly added," No offense, Lord Angel. If I had known then you were a messenger of God I would surely have recalled the event."

Andrew chuckled, "Oh, that's quite all right. I was hardly anything near _momentous_ back then. And please call me Andrew. I'm nobody's lord."

"Andrew," the knight chuckled. "The name is from the Greek 'aner' meaning 'man'. That is a strange name for an angel. But then my name means 'victorous people' and I am hardly victorious. So tell, me, Andrew, why have you sought such as me if not to throw me into the flaming Pit? I may not have committed the first grievous sin I was accused of, but I have since far surpassed in quantity that single claim of murder."

"Officially?" Andrew absently scratched the back of his neck as he thought on his answer, "to give you guidance during this time of crisis." He gazed intently at de Brabant. "Personally, though, I desire to apologize and seek your forgiveness---if you will grant it."

"But why should you need forgiveness from me? And why would I not grant such a request? You have done me no wrong, angel."

"Because, Nicholas...." Andrew gulped with rising shame, "it was my immaturity that brought you to this state."

He reminded de Brabant of their second meeting in the inn, where Andrew had unwittingly given the drunken Crusader the wrong impressions and strengthened Nicholas' decision to turn to Janette and not to God for comfort. It was both a horrible task and a great relief to confess to this knight who had suffered so due to Andrew's own early rashness.

Nicholas' expression during the telling ranged between curious interest to frowning anger, until at the end Andrew was convinced that the knight had decided _not_ to forgive him after all as his face was so clouded. Stricken with remorse even stronger than before, Andrew fell down to one knee and pled with the knight, the tears streaming down his face, "Please, try to forgive me, Chevalier de Brabant. If that is not possible now, then perhaps later?" His heart sank further as Nicholas deliberately stepped away from him and let forth an unearthly howl to the clouds above before unceremoniously yanking the kneeling angel to his feet, reversing their positions as he did so.

"No, No, No.....NO!"

Thrusting both hands into the saturated ground of the lake's edge, de Brabant rose back to his feet and faced the Angel of Death with two fistfuls of mud.

.Andrew stood meekly waiting. As far as he was concerned, if this soul chose to pelt him with some sodden earth, then he was getting off very lightly, for he deserved much harsher treatment at the knight's hands. It was with round eyes, then, that he watched the warrior roughly smear the mud unto his own clothing until the Crusader's cross was completely obliterated from sight.

"Not yours... oh, God, not yours too?" With a sound that was both a bitter laugh and a pained sob, Nicholas let himself fall down even further before Andrew until he was sitting on his haunches in the wetness. "Oh, God----_I've even managed to wound an angel!_"

"Nicholas?" Andrew's voice trembled. The knight had let his Vampire fully out as he had cried that last, his formerly blue irises transformed into an emotional storm of amber and scarlet.

"It's my fault! _My_ fault! Lord Angel---it was my choice. Don't you see? I had _already_ chosen to go with Janette before you even came in. What you said had nothing to do with it. I had chosen my fate when she first offered herself to me." Yanking on the titanium restraint---so incongruous with the rest of his historical attire--- he wound the broken bit of chain around one hand. "And now to find that by that choice I made a very Angel of God suffer for centuries with me... I am truly damned."

"No, Nicholas!" Andrew got back down in order to look him in the eye. "You are cursed, perhaps---as are all men by the Enemy's lies, but not damned. Do not say that."

"Damned!" the knight groaned again, unhearing as Andrew prayed and attempted to warm him with God's reflected glory by wrapping his arms around the man. But it was not enough... Nicholas was slipping too fast into a state of utter despair. Andrew prayed that much harder and tightened the embrace even as his thoughts screamed that he was losing the battle for de Brabant's soul yet a second time. Andrew could mentally picture him slipping out of his grasp into some yawning hole of darkness.

This could not be happening again. He would _not_ let it happen again.

"Fit for only demons... a demon myself..." his assignment moaned over and over in Andrew's arms as the sky darkened.

Within seconds the terrible blackness had rolled in like a raging storm, turning the still lake water black in reflection of the ominous shadows above. Both angel and vampire rose together, the latter clinging to the former in alarm as victorious laughter was heard.

_"And not jussst __ANY _ DEMON, my sweet Nicholas," the Divia/Legion voice boomed around them. _"BUT AN __ARCH _ DEMON!" The wind kicked up to an even fiercer level, beating against the knight as it sought to separate him from the angel. Andrew turned enough to grab tightly onto the vampire's tunic with both hands. Though he kept on praying, his glow had all but dimmed to nothing.

Father!

_I'm sorry, Andrew, but time has run out. He must make his decision now_

Nicholas screamed as a force wrenched him from Andrew, the knight managing to draw his sword just microseconds before the dark cloud of energy lifted him fifteen feet from the ground and held him suspended there.

* * *

**Review Responses:**

**Elendil: ** Yes, I know I tend to make possessive that which should not be and vice versa. It's frustrating because I DO know the difference, but because they sound the same when I hear the words in my head as I edit—they slip through anyway.

**Louie Pastiche: **The glitch was my fault and not 's. And thank you for the compliment. ï

**Trecebo: **Eeesh! I agree with your comment on Monica and Andrew stories. The sugar is enough to rot teeth. Lol But you find a lot of that in fandoms. God knows I can no longer stand Natalie/Nicholas Have An Adorable (natch) Child stories. To each their own, but they make me gag.

Logan, huh? I'm more of a Scott fan myself. Those two X-men have lots of lovely emotional issues. Hehehe.

As for the TBAA mainstream... I think it's because the majority of them are strongly conservative Christians. (duh, Kyer!) Not that I'm against Christianity, mind. I was in a fundamentalist church for years so I'm speaking from experience here. But I've found that Christianity and fantasy mixing don't sit well with them. Sad to say, they can't see beyond the 'satanic' (s/f) elements to 'get' the underlining message. They see the fangs or antennae and—bam!—label it satanic and head away.) I'm speaking generally though. Not every one is like that.

I do find it funny though considering that the Bible refers to fantastic creatures. Are angels and leviathans any less wonderous than vampires and vulcans? In a more reality based spin: Is the wolf any less God's creature than the doe? We ascribed 'innocent' and 'guilty' labels too freely. Herbivores can be just as viscous as any carnivore.

Hooray for fantasy that turns accepted ideas on their heads and inspires critical rather than blind thinking.

**L E McMurray: **Oh, there's lots more. I just got major sidetracked by Severus Snape of Harry Potter. Gods, what a deliciously angsty character! If only I'd known about him years ago when the movies first came out I wouldn't have been faced with several weeks of fanfic research now. (btw, I heartily recommend writer ReeraTheRed's story about Dumbledore's, Remus Lupin's, and a clueless Harry Potter's efforts to save a despondent Snape. It's titled The Wounded and it's received 337 reviews so far with only 16 chapters. Yes, it deserves that high number. Warning: deals with an _attempted_ suicide by a main character that has you quietly reaching for a Kleenex box. Normally, I don't care for that theme, but this one was enthralling, endearing, and utterly captivating—and never plummets into treacle sugariness. I hope she/he writes the sequel.


	18. Darker Invitation

**7/24/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.**

* * *

Chapter 18: Darker Invitation

_"MINE!"_ exulted the evil voice as the blackness of the demon wrapped tightly around de Brabant's torso, _"you are mine!'_

"No!" Nicholas screamed.

_"Yessss... You know you have no other choice, Crusssaderr!"_ the voice crooned. _"You can't trussst a God who abandoned you---nor you, He. You have betrayed your lovesss two many timesss for redemption. We are your only recourssse, Sir __knight_---give yourself to ussss and all your pain will end."

Left standing fifteen feet below the trapped man, Andrew was beseeching him to see the demon's words for what they were as he cried, "Nicholas! Satan is the Father of Lies and all his demons follow in his footsteps! Jehovah has never abandoned you! Let him into your life! Legion has no more power over you than what he has deceived you into believing---"

A great gust of dark wind smacked against the Angel of Death, sending him flying head-over-heels backwards to land with a soft thud within the tall grass. Andrew groaned at the impact, momentarily stunned.

_"Sssee..."_ that which was Legion gloated, "even the angelsss of God cannot stand againssst my might!" The nebulous remains of Divia echoed afterwards, both mockingly concerned and demanding, _"Come, Nicholas, open your mouth and take your medicine. Nicky has kept Grandma waiting long enough. INVITE ME IN!"_

"Never!"

With strong hacking motions, Nicholas desperately sent his weapon into the black nebula holding onto him. Again and again the blade disappeared into the thick ebony mist, yet the Darkness was unharmed; it's changing voice was even tinged with amusement at the ineffectiveness of his sword. At last the knight's arms went limp with fatigue and he gave up, whimpering in fear.

Stumbling again unto his feet, Andrew limped back as fast as he could just as de Brabant slumped in defeat, his nerveless hands letting the heavy and useless sword go so that it fell to the ground before the angel's feet.

"Andrew?" de Brabant pleaded, "Help... me."

"Nicholas--I can't fight it for you! You must banish it yourself!" Andrew yelled up as he ducked and rolled to avoid another demonic swipe at his person.

The vampire groaned. "I can't. I've tried. It's too powerful for me to fight."

But Andrew was not ready to give up. Not while there was still hope. His Father would not have sent him here if there was no hope. Tumbling back to where the broadsword had fallen, he lifted it from the muck and tossed it back to its owner, who caught its hilt without any real enthusiasm.

"Not I, but the Father within does the work!" the angel quoted with confident eyes fixed upon the vampire's blue. "Have faith, Nicholas! All men _have_ been given authority over their own--"

His pep talk went unfinished as a large dark mass connected with him once again, sending Andrew sailing back so far that he collided with one of the hewn stones of the circle and could only watch in a daze as the sentient 'storm cloud' lazily drifted up from the lake to approach him, its prize still clutched to itself. Nicholas' fangs had descended, and he was trying to use them to bite his assailant, but as with the sword, the Darkness simply lost its solidity wherever he tried to strike.

'Divia' snickered as they stopped before the sprawled Andrew. _"Oh, look, a __fallen_ angel. And he can't get up---_or we'll knock him down again_." Her counterpart words were just as menacing as he promised, _"When Nicholasss breathsss uss in, angel, your flessshy incarnation will be the firssst we destroy...slowly and painfully!"_ Their mad laughter filled the air.

"Not through me," Nicholas growled. "I refuse to hurt anyone ever again. I'll die first."

The merriment evaporated.

_"Still stubborn?"_ the Darkness sighed as one long suffering. _"He alwayss wasss. Doesn't realize that we will not permit his untimely death. Another lessson iss in order it ssseems. Yes, another."_

Closing his eyes with head bowed, de Brabant mouthed an old Brabantian prayer that his mother had taught him as a small child. The words came haltingly, but they came, and the demonic shade seemed to twitch within itself even though not a syllable of sound was actually spoken aloud.

_"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, CHEVALIER?!"_ the Darkness asked him, trying to mask its unease and intimidate its captive with sheer volume. It tightened its grip, making de Brabant struggle for breath. _"ANSWER!"_

"Praying." the knight gasped.

_"What?"_

Nicholas' voice quavered and he swallowed hard three times in succession as he confessed, "It's a prayer of forgiveness that my Maman taught me."

_"Is it?"_ the demon roared as all of the visible countryside became populated with white crosses. _"Do you think it will be enough?"_ the voice sneered. _"What about your multitude of sins, de Brabant," it hissed. "What about..her__?"_

One of the crosses blazed into flame, making the vampire squirm with discomfort as it consumed the landscape everywhere around them with its angry glow.

Andrew blinked away the large quantity of spots before his eyes to find he was no longer leaning against a stone monolith, but a brick wall of Nicholas' old Toronto home. The place felt abnormally chill, as if someone had opened a window somewhere in the middle of a winter ice storm.

Vision returned to normal, the Angel of Death caught his breath when he spied a crumbled body lying upon a rug before the fireplace. A couple of yards away, the knight stood within the intertwined and clutching embrace of a translucent, blond girl and a dark clad figure whom Andrew could not quite seem to get his eyes to focus on, for it continuously blurred in form and face. Andrew grimaced when he realized it was Divia and the multi-demon that was Legion in as corporeal a shape as their host-less psyches could maintain. They were keeping a silently weeping de Brabant trapped between them, his eyes fixed on the corpse across the room, reminding Andrew of vultures waiting for the right moment to move in.

_"Well, Nicholas,"_ Divia asked him between playful nips at his neck. _"Cat got your tongue? That should be my privilege."_

_"Yesss, Chevalier,"_ Legion's changing mouth quirked with amusement at the stiff body it held, _"tell usss what your latessst ill-used lover will think of your belated appearance in Heaven. How will ssshe greet her murderer, do you think?"_ He blew out his foul breath upon the de Brabant's neck and ear, sending the dark gold hairs scattering away from its unwanted touch. _"Sssurely Ms. Lambert'sss ghosst will welcome you with hugss and sweet kisssesss?"_ it smirked. _"Or... perhaps not?"_

_"I believe in you. I trust in you. Make love to me, Nick. Take just a little at a time."_ Divia gleefully recited his own memory of Natalie's words and threw them at her anguished 'grandson'---clucking in false pity as the knight groaned at the barb. _"Oh, but my Nicky was so thirsty. And she tasted so deliciously good, yes she did, oh yes she did!"_ The demon moved forward and licked his neck.

_"Better to be accepted by usss than to have to face her, eh, Nicholasss?"_ Legion spoke quietly into his ear. _"We will take away this noisome pain for you. Wrap your heart in a sssnuggly blanket of indifference. Ssso sssoothing to forget all about thisss nasssty prrredilictttion of yourrrs forrr murrrderrrr. And all you have to do---sssuch a sssmall, sssimple thing---is... let... us... in."_

"Yes, Nicholas," Andrew broke in, getting to his feet, his face stern within the muted glow that framed his body. He ignored the shocked look on the knight's face as the latter turned to look at him. "Give in. Run away and hide within the maze of Hell's domain. Never have to apologize. Never have to see Nat again. Never hear her voice tell you how sorry she was for pushing you past what you could bear. Never give _her_ the chance to apologize and tell you how much she loves you still. Be selfish, Nicholas, and think of only your own pain----don't think of her, or La croix, or Janette, or Feliks, or Merlin, or anyone who cares for you at all. Or how it will feel when Legion and Divia use you to destroy them and countless others."

Legion and Divia gave him a look that could kill.

_"SHUT UP!"_

The room dissolved back into the Welsh countryside, the scene returned to what it had been previously---save for Andrew's now standing upright as he radiated righteous anger.

"Make a decision, Nicholas! Quit stalling by supplying them with memories as ammo. You cannot exist this way. You cannot continue in both worlds. Either forgive yourself and accept Jehovah's Love, or condemn everyone by your unwillingness to face Truth. God has _already_ forgiven you everything. Your victims are at peace in His arms. There is nothing left to castigate except your own desire to continue punishing yourself!"

Startled at his own unplanned outburst, Andrew realized that what his Father had put into his heart was true: Nicholas had been held captive for so long because he _wanted_ to be tormented. He might have lived through eight centuries of social changes, but his heart was still that of a 13th century man who'd had it ingrained in him at childhood that suffering was the _only_ way to cleanse sins. Like those poor, misguided repentant souls who felt that they could only gain forgiveness by lashing themselves with whips or crawling on bloody knees to whatever 'shrine' struck their fancy, Nicholas De Brabant thought enduring the demons was the only way to redeem himself.

A tear coursed down Andrew's cheek at the realization.

"God our Father, loves you, Nicholas. Don't do this to Him. Don't do it to yourself. You are pardoned. Accept the gift."

The Darkness growled as it seemed to awaken from its momentary stupor.

_"Are you finished with your pointless chatter?"_

Andrew nodded sadly. His assignment was just staring at him. Not saying a word. Had he even heard Andrew's? "I've said all I'd come to say. There is nothing more I _can_ say," he said in answer to the demon, but with the meaning aimed at the knight.

_"THEN LEAVE!"_

"No."

Still stuck in mid-air, Nicholas was shaking like a leaf despite the tightness of the grip that held him.

"No...Andrew... stay. Please," he asked before breathing deeply to steady himself.

The angel was right, de Brabant admitted to himself. He had been skirting along the edge of a cliff for far too long, afraid to fall into the abyss, yet even more terrified of turning away from it and facing the light beyond the darkness. It was time to truly take responsibility instead of hiding away from it.

Deep blue eyes blazed as Nicholas looked up, sending his glare in the direction where the blackness seemed thickest. He spoke firmly and clearly.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Life."

"We tire of this silly show of defiance, little one." But the composite voice sounded hesitant, unsure; sensing that something within its would-be-ticket into the physical world had changed. Their captive responded by raising his sword. From above, a tiny sliver of sunlight broke through the charcoal-colored clouds to strike the polished blade, making its entire length shine like an elongated star. The darkness seemed to shiver.

"I, Nicholas de Brabant, son of Sir Henry de Brabant and Lady Maria de Brabant, adopted child of General Lucius Lacroix of Pompeii, _demand_ you leave me...totally and forever. You're not welcome here anymore, foul one. My need for you is done." He smiled grimly as he was slowly lowered halfway to the ground. Was his foe already weaker than before? If his guardian angel's reaction was any indication...

Andrew was sporting a huge grin across his face and he flung his arms aloft in triumphant joy. "Yes, yes---_YES_!"

Now Legion's voice was tinged with unmistakable fear as it hissed, _"No, Nicholasss---listen!----thisss angel isss twisted with lies! His wordsss are nothing but falsehoodsss! Only we can sssave you from yoursssel--"_

Nicholas growled at the darkness with bared fangs, his eyes glowing like miniature suns. "By the power of the Spirit of the God I unthinkingly pushed away--- _be gone from me, thou Evil Children of Satan!_"

He rammed is sword down into the mass that held him.

The results, Andrew decided, were rather spectacular.

Immediately the oppressive Darkness recoiled from de Brabant with a terrible shriek as the blade made contact, the blackness getting burned away as if it had been dipped in pearlescent acid. Smiling grimly, de Brabant executed a back flip and flew out of range of the demons' dying throes, lighting down next to Andrew to watch the finale.

_"NONONONONONNoNoNonononono!!_ Legion/Divia wailed and cursed as the God-given brightness from the Crusader's blade continued to eat away at them with increasing speed. _"You have not won yet! You'll pay... for thissss, both...of...youu....!"_

As Light encompassing and drove out the last blot of Darkness, Andrew turned to Nicholas to offer him his congratulations, but the smiling knight disappeared from his vision as the unabated brightness continued to grow until all he saw was the pearly Light.

* * *

_Well, done, my beloved Angel._

"Father?" Andrew blushed. "I only encouraged him. Nicholas did the rest---with his sword and your Glory."

_But it was your use of the sword of Truth that removed the blindness from his eyes, Andrew._

"So...does this mean this assignment is over? Not that I'm not ready to take a vacation after all of this," he smiled sheepishly, "but I would have liked to have said goodbye first."

_No, Andrew. It is not over, so you must stay as a vampire for a little while longer. Nicholas has won this battle for his soul, but the war still rages around him. Have you forgotten Monica and Tess?_

Andrew felt as if the center of his being had been dipped in ice. Shame also, as he _had_ forgotten about his friends.

"What about them?" he asked, instantly worried for their well being. Were they also battling demons? Then Andrew remembered his earlier thought that his and Monica's assignments knew each other.

_Yes, my Angel, that is correct. Monica's assignment knows de Brabant---but not well. Soon, she will know far more than she bargained for. You must be there for all of them, Andrew. Monica especially will need your comfort."_

"Yes, Father...um...but will Monica want to even see me? I mean, she wasn't too thrilled by this change in me to a...well..."

The warmth of God's Love surrounded him in what could only be described as a hug. Then he felt himself being transported back to the physical realm.

* * *

**Answering Reviews:**

**L E McMurray: **Of course there is more. This chapter completed the first skirmish. Lots more to go as Monica and Tess will soon re-enter the story.

**Louie Pastiche: **If that had you hogging the facial tissues, better keep it handy for later posts. grins

**Wanderer D:** Moving... such a joy. You have my sympathy. coughs Eh... At this point, the only thing that's happened is that Nicholas is no longer plagued by demons _within_ his mind. He's yet to face his main enemy. whistles (damn all my unfinished stories!) Anyway, we aren't near done yet.

Actually, I was aiming for Pathos more than Angst, but Nick does tend towards overdoing everything emotion wise. Nicholas assuming the guilt was very much in character for him. In fact, FK humor is filled with Angsty Nick cornering the market on guilt. Honestly, I think he's addicted to it more than he is to blood. -cackles- But then that is what makes him so fun to write.

**Trecebo: **See above. Andrew is more stable than Nicholas who is in a class by himself. -smiles- However, Andrew has his own set of insecurities. Don't we all?

Scott Summers is indeed very different from Logan. Or maybe not. There is a wonderful story in a site called The Medicine Wheel that has Logan and Scott captured and tortured by government types. (Not Slash) I appreciate Boy Scout Scott, but have an even greater one for Gritty Hellish Background Scott who _has_ to keep himself tightly under control lest his whole world unravel. In that way, he is like Logan only without Logan's freedom to express his frustrations openly. If you want, I'll post the site link to that writer's site. Warning though—the story I have in mind deals with very graphic images of violence—particularly character death, revenge and the medical aftermath of a rape. Nor is the ending a Happily Ever After one.

I despise happily ever after stories unless they are comedies. Life is no picnic. For every battle won, another is always more looming over the horizon. And the battle scars never totally go away. Cinderella is deluding herself if she thinks her life will be all perfumed rose water after marrying Prince Charming. Same for Prince Charming! You ever deal 24/7 with a princess?

Glad you like the story. We aim to please. Um.. well, no. Actually, we aim to please our self because we are doing this as a freebie in gratitude to others who also write stories without monetary gain for recompense. If others like it as well, that's icing on the cake. lol


	19. Aftershocks

**7/24/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.**

* * *

a/n FYI, the flashback is original material NOT taken from any canon episode.

Chapter 19: Aftershocks

Andrew came to in an upright position with eyes closed and feeling rather sick to his stomach. The sensation seemed oddly familiar... Ah, yes...the ever present _Hunger of the Vampire_. It must have been some time since he'd last fed. A quick scan with his advanced nasal sense immediately pegged his surroundings as Nicholas' room at The Raven. Other than that, things were not as he had expected: there were others in there with him besides de Brabant. By their scent, none were strangers to him, yet he was supposed to have been left alone with his assignment until he called to be let out.

What had happened?

Groggily, he catalogued the dull aches at the back of his skull, his ankles and wrists...and the insistent pressure over his heart. It was all rather annoying--- especially the latter. He moved to brush whatever was causing the feeling away, but found to his chagrin that he couldn't move. That's when he forced his eyes to open and saw the wooden stake being pressed against his chest by a pair of slender hands framed against a backdrop of burgundy satin. He raised his eyes a little higher.

"Janette?"

The lovely nightclub owner gave him a ghost of a smile that did not even dare to approach the glare in her eyes.

"Bon soir, Monsieur," she said pleasantly---while never wavering in her hold of the stake.

"Bon soir to you, too, Janette," Andrew returned---though his greeting was, understandably, much more subdued. "Mind telling me why it is I should be waking up feeling like a Christmas turkey just before the big day?"

"Certainly... it appears that you have hurt my dear brother, Nicola."

"What?"

She eyed him coldly, but it was another voice that whispered icicle words into his ear, a silken voice, and the angel knew he was in really deep trouble.

"My, my....we were busy, weren't we?" Lacroix sneered, his composed yet bestial face moving into Andrew's vision. The Elder's energy aura fairly crackled around him. He took the wooden implement from his daughter's hand and caressed it lovingly. "Janette, why don't you and Miklos go fetch some bottles for me, hmmm?"

"Lacroix?" Janette respectfully asked as her mouth formed a delicate frown. As happy as she would be to quite literally bite Andrew's head off if he had harmed her sporadic lover, she didn't wish to destroy an Ancient who just might be innocent--or well connected with the Council. "We don't know for sure yet. At least let us wait until Nicola awakens."

"Did you not hear me?"

The lovely proprietress froze at the menace in her sire's voice. Lacroix had already made up his mind and was intent on playing judge, jury, and executioner. That she was being sent away meant that he had some concern that the High Council would not be pleased with what he was about to do---should Andrew indeed be one of their own. By being elsewhere when the act was performed she would not be implicated with him.

Giving a small nod at her sire's logic---if not actually agreeing---Janette reluctantly left to do his bidding, calling for the Irish bartender to accompany her.

No sooner was she departed from the room than Lacroix was circling the chair like a vulture. He settled for a position behind his trapped 'guest', large hands settling over the angel's shoulders like iron weights. They twisted him around---chair and all---until Andrew was facing the bed.

Nicholas lay there in his rumbled gray poet's shirt and ebony vest, unmoving upon the bedcovers. His parted lips were smeared with Lacroix's own blood. More of the scarlet liquid trailed down his cheek to where it dampened the black satin pillow. Apparently the Elder had tried to awaken his son by getting the knight to feed from his sire, but Nicholas had not responded to what should have been an enticing lure for any child of the Ancient's lineage.

De Brabant, it seemed, was dead to the world.

Lucien Lacroix, however, was very much aware and even more pissed off. His normally smooth voice was positively silken with malice as he ruminated aloud.

"I trusted the well being of my son to you---against every fatherly instinct I have. And what happens...?" the fingers dug into the material beneath them "Hardly the hour is started when I receive rather unsettling impressions from my child. Oh, Nicholas has of late been broadcasting his own truckloads of fear and sorrow before you ever showed up---but not like this. Not these feelings of abject terror and of being attacked. Well, it was my duty as a father to investigate regardless of any pact made or debt owed, don't you agree?"

The hands slowly and deliberately moved up to encircle the angel's neck.

"I didn't hurt him," Andrew explained as calmly as he could. "I only took the barest mouthful from him."

"And yet he is still unconscious despite my efforts to wake him by bond or blood---both of which fairly reek of confusion. Care to explain?" the 2,000-year old vampire asked with false politeness. The tone of the Elder's voce was so similar to Legion's that Andrew had to forcibly remind himself that the two beings were worlds apart: Legion had taunted them out of pure malice; Lacroix was acting out of worry for his son.

"I don't know. But we shared a rather harrowing experience through a series of his memories. It could be that his unconscious mind is just busy sorting it all--"

He held his breath as the Elder's right hand moved under his chin, causing Andrew's head to tilt back and to the right---baring the jugular.

"Aristotle seemed quite impressed with you," Lacroix casually admitted. "I must admit, I'm very intrigued by what he might have found in your blood. Considering this new development, I'm sure you won't mind if I take 'the barest mouthful' to verify for myself your intentions?"

_Father!_ Andrew thought as cold breath on his throat was quickly accompanied by the feeling of two eyeteeth against his skin.

The intercom thankfully chose that moment to interrupt.

With a snarl of annoyance, Lacroix left Andrew's side in order to answer it.

"What _IS_ it?!"

There was a nervous cough from the other end, before Miklos' voice came through sounding strained and oddly stilted. Andrew frowned. Sure, it was unhealthy to incur the General's wrath, but Miklos seemed overly affected by a single growl from over an intercom. Something was wrong.

"Sir-- your presence is...needed...immediately...sir?"

"I'm rather busy right now, Miklos. Get Janette to handle it. It _is_ her club."

"Uh..." the bartender coughed again, "Janette is indisposed. We really need _you_ to come down to the bar....right now, sir. It's...rather urgent."

Lacroix sighed, but answered, "Very well. But this had better be of utmost importance, Miklos!" He jabbed the OFF button and stalked back to Andrew, irritation at the delay plain on his face.

"It seems I am needed elsewhere... probably just some unruly patrons." He frowned. What could be so dire that Miklos, Janette, or Aristotle singularly or together could handle it without him? Mentally shrugging, he headed for the door. Whatever it was, he'd deal with it and return soon enough to where he'd left off here. In either case, there was no safer place for his son to be left at the moment---even with the presence of the mysterious Ancient: this room was a veritable fort.

Still... it was always prudent to take precautions.

"If you are indeed innocent," he said to the bound angel as he went about breaking the chains, "then I hold you responsible for his well-being until I return. If you are not and I find him harmed any more...?" He let his glare and the Ancient's imagination fill in the rest for him.

"You'll slice me into little bitty pieces----I get the picture," Andrew ruefully sighed.

"Good---although a tad on the optimistic side for you as I was actually contemplating something far more painful. But as long as we still understand each other: Watch over my son and guard him well or you will wish you had stepped into the Light rather than crossing over."

The door had hardly sealed behind the master vampire when Nicholas groaned. Quickly, Andrew went over to him.

"Nicholas?"

At the sound of his voice the blond man jerked awake, his blue eyes wide with astonishment.

"It's gone...?" Nicholas grinned and bolted upright, swaying dizzily on his feet. "It's gone!"

The euphoric vampire didn't protest as a smiling Andrew gently tugged on the black material of the other's thigh-lengthen vest to get him back onto the bed; the Angel only half-jokingly rubbing his ringing ears, feeling pretty euphoric himself. Very much so.

"Okay---I got the message already. No need to deafen me," Andrew joked. Lord knew he was very happy for the man... er... vampire.

"And you were there!" de Brabant continued with unrestrained passion, his excitement almost a palpable thing. "And I was afraid of you at first, so I ran, but you wouldn't leave me until I started to trust you and then you helped me to be free of them! They're gone!" he repeated as if Andrew was, indeed, suffering from a hearing deficiency. The Angel of Death found himself being squeezed by a grizzly bear of a hug. He might best the knight by a good two inches in height, Andrew thought, but Nicholas was certainly no weakling. No wonder the chains were done in titanium.

"You're...welcome," he managed to gasp out.

Nicholas hastily let go and offered a rueful smile in apology as Andrew rubbed his bruised ribcage.

"Sorry."

"It's alright," Andrew smiled despite the sudden wave of remorse that swept over him. "Fortunately, in this form I don't need to breathe."

His new friend scooted back so that Andrew could sit with him, folding his legs Indian style. The vampire looked pensive.

"Was it true... that you are an Angel... of Death?" Nicholas haltingly asked him.

"Yes. None of what I told you was a lie."

"Then you would know---wouldn't you? You could tell me if Gwyneth, Alyssa, Amelia, Natalie----all those I wronged---they are happy now?"

Andrew smiled as he gave the other's knee a friendly pat. "Everyone who is escorted to the Father is happy, Nicholas. None of them hold a grudge. And it was not you who wronged Gwyneth."

Nicholas looked downcast at his lap. "If I hadn't fallen in love with her..."

"Your uncle would merely have found another convenient scapegoat. It was not your fault he killed her."

"But..."

"Nicholas de Brabant, stop that," Andrew scolded him in exasperation. He brusquely straightened the vampire's shirt where the collar ties were running all askew. "Didn't we already clear this up? You're forgiven." He lightly slapped the other on the chest in emphasis. "A new vampire"

The 800-year old scratched his head and grinned sheepishly back at him.

"Yeah.... okay. Just give me a half-century's worth of slack, on this? Seeing as old habits dying hard and all that?"

His subdued demeanor despite the sudden joviality got the angel's attention. Strange how he seemed to have this connection to de Brabant now, an inner knowing of what the other was feeling---and _how much_ he was feeling it. Wild joy, bitter remorse, thorough unsettledness, now intense disappointment--- didn't the man come with a lukewarm setting on his emotional dial? No wonder his blood was considered ambrosia---if vampires craved experiences via sanguinary methods to while away their abundance of time, then Nicholas was a regular Mardi Gras in liquid form.

The angel reached out to pet Nicholas's arm in a soothing manner. "What's wrong?"

De Brabant seemed to deflate a little as he confessed, "You said it yourself," he wiped off the trail of Lacroix's blood from his cheek and purposely licked it off his fingers, opening his mouth just wide enough for the tips of two fangs to be seen "I'm still _this_. How can I still be...trapped in this... if I'm forgiven?"

"Oh, Nicholas... gaining forgiveness doesn't automatically erase past choices. The Father will help you to deal with them, but they still must be dealt _with_. Being born-again doesn't mean some magic wand was waved and all your troubles disappear. Far from it---the Enemy just becomes that much more determined to reclaim his lost pro--"

His tongue stumbled over the word on his tongue.

Demons were known for their tenacity: they didn't give up after just one blow.

Nicholas uncurled his legs and swung them over the bed with concern for the angel in his eyes, sensing the Andrew's distress through the temporary bond that seemed to have formed between them. Or was it a one way thing? After all, he had drunk from the knight without the bite being reciprocated.

"Sir Angel--Andrew... What's wrong?"

Andrew barely registered the inquiry, what the Father had said was running through his head. Uneasiness gripped him.

"It's not over."

How long ago since Lacroix had left? Why hadn't he returned? Surely nothing short of a planetary disaster would keep him away from his son this long?

"Andrew!"

The angel turned towards the increasingly anxious vampire now clutching his jacket sleeve.

"We have to get you out of here," Andrew informed him with quiet urgency.

Nicholas chuckled ruefully. "Sure. Fine---I've seen enough of this room to last me another decade at the very least. There's just one little problem," He tugged on the chain that trailed upwards from his middle "unless you care to undo this thing? My sire didn't exactly confide to me the code for his little 'child safety' device."

The angel grimaced as his gaze fell to the restraint around the knight's midriff. "Oops. I forgot."

"I thought you might have done."

Reaching for the metal device, Andrew meant to call on his own sire to break it open, but he never got the chance. The door suddenly opened to reveal a massive vampire with the biggest set of fangs the celestial denizen had ever seen save in really bad horror movie posters or affixed to baboons and Siberian tigers. The dental hygienist's bad dream stepped inside enough to allow another with the same overbite problem to join him in the room.

These black-clad poster boys for Steroid Usage By The Undead leered at them, their yellow eyes taking in Andrew's startled expression, but settling on de Brabant. Nicholas was on his feet in an instant levitating to mid-level between floor and ceiling as he prepared to do battle. He bared his own, much smaller fangs in warning, his body poised to take flight in any possible direction that was open to him. Fear poured through his mental link, the intensity twisting Andrew's stomach. Despite his outward show of resistance, it was patently obvious that de Brabant was in no shape to fight anyone---making flight his best course of action. Unfortunately, with the restraint still on actual escape was an impossibility and both sides knew it.

The intruders actually managed to form grins around their fangs.

"Enforcers! What do you want?" Nicholas hissed.

The two members of the vampire police force were on him in moments, suffering the Brabantian's well-aimed kicks and punches without complaint until they had the struggling medieval warrior pinned between them. It all happened so fast that Andrew only then noticed that there was now a third Enforcer glaring down at him. He raised his hands to the level of his head---empty palms facing outward in a gesture of surrender---afraid that the other two would hurt the knight if he provoked them.

His friend apparently was past caring who he provoked.

"Let me _go_!" snarled Nicholas from his prone position on the floor, after biting one of the Enforcer's hands that was trying to get him to swallow something. "I haven't done anything to break your precious Code!"

"No one said you did, young one," Kurkan smiled at them from the doorway, one handedly holding a sweating Merlin by the scruff of the neck.

"_You_!" de Brabant's eyes narrowed. "I remember you--argh!"

The Enforcer used the distraction to pour the small vial of liquid down de Brabant's throat. Slowly, his struggles ceased as the drug took affect. It was a special derivative of curare----the pure form of which put vampires to sleep. The derivitive paralyzed, yet kept the victim conscious. It also effected while keeping the drinker's blood composition intact. Kurkan's master had been rather insistent that he would be most annoyed with his underling to find the prize had been supped upon.

He gave a faint bow to Andrew. "Ahhh...the pup's 'guardian angel' still hovers around, I see."

Andrew stared sharply at him, but then decided that the vampire was only speaking figuratively.

"You will not interfere this time will you, Andrew?" Kurkan challenged. You see, my friends here have orders to tear Sir de Brabant's arm off if you do. Rather messy and terribly excruciating for him...however, not fatally so." He grinned maliciously at the apparent Ancient. It was a bluff, but the stranger would not know that unless he drank from Kurkan---something the Greek had no intention of letting happen.

He tossed Merlin in the direction of the trio.

"Get that thing off of him. As aesthetically pleasing as it is, it's just not appropriate for travel."

Stumbling a bit, Merlin offered his vamped-out friend a sick smile as he knelt down to work on the electronic lock of the band. "Hi, Nick. I'd like to say that I was glad to see you looking more yourself, but..."

"Merlin... what's going on?" Nicholas asked as his countenance relaxed into that of a regular mortal's. The real question 'Where's Janette and Lacroix?' a silent inquiry in the blue eyes. No way Lacroix would let Kurkan just waltz into his home like this without a fight. Well...not since that time with Janette, anyway...

-----------------------Flashback: 1798 AD London, England---------------------

Nicholas glared at his maker, his posture making it clear that he had no intention of following orders. As hard as it was for him to 'read' his sire when he wished to hide his feelings it was obvious something was upsetting Lacroix, but he had no idea what it was.

His master glared right back.

"Nicholas---I have no patience for this right now. You _will_ stay in your room tonight."

"I can't. I promised Janette I'd take her to the theater tonight. The last evening performance for 'Julius Caesar' is tomorrow."

Lacroix snorted. "Excellent. Then you may take her out to see that bit of twaddle _tomorrow_--with my blessings."

"_Tomorrow_ we've been invited to the party," his son exclaimed in exasperation. "Or have you forgotten?"

He stumbled backwards as the back of Lacroix's hand struck his cheek, the force of the blow making his skin sting.

"Insolent pup-- watch your tongue!" his master snarled. "We shan't be attending the party."

Eyes wide in consternation, Nicholas stuttered. "B-but...the invitation is from the Elder of London--"

"I said we are _not_ going! Be satisfied that I am allowing you to attend the play---lest I revoke even _that_ and keep you locked in here for two nights instead of one." The ancient vampire headed for the door. "Even so, I may well change my mind on the matter. I'm not overly fond of this city just now."

"But we just got here. To get away from all the strife on the continents, you said, remember? Surely you don't want to go back already?" Nicholas hated the whine that had crept into his voice, yet couldn't hide it. He had plans! Though not as grand as Paris, the growing town of London had a lot to offer and he had envisioned savoring all of its delights before moving on.

The door shutting with a sharp click as a heavy lock slid in place was his only reply.

Nicholas glowered at the door, giving it a petulant--though half-hearted--kick. It was only made of aged oak. If he took precautions, he could easily batter it down without garnering so much as a splinter. But the noise would alert Lacroix and his master would be absolutely furious at the damage---in addition to his act of willful disobedience. Darn the 'man' for being so unreasonable! Still... Nicholas smiled slyly at a square panel in the opposite wall.

That didn't mean he couldn't escape via the dumb waiter!

It was a matter of mere moments to cram his lengthy frame into the box and lower himself to the basement. _Not_ a terribly comfortable means of escape--but it worked. From there, a quick levitation up the staircase to the first floor. Cautiously he listened and heard Lacroix upstairs with a nervous-sounding Janette, giving her advice on how to comport herself during her interview.

Interview?

Nicholas mulled the word over. Janette was not the type to seek employment under anyone. She'd once confided to him that upon becoming immortal, she'd meant to adopt the lifestyle of the aristocracy and stick to it come what may. So why was she waiting for an interview? And why was Lacroix so adamant that he stay oblivious of the event?

Maybe the interview was for a potential suitor?

Jealously threatened to engulf him, but Nicholas squashed the feeling down---Janette had long ago declared her independence from his 'stifling love' of her. Besides, if suitor this was, then there must be _something_ not quite kosher about him. Janette would not bother to hide a romance just to spare her brother's feelings, would she?

Nicholas chuckled to himself. If Janette was so embarrassed by this job or beau that she would implore Lacroix's help to keep her brother in the dark, then this just _had_ to be interesting! And he had never really paid her back for that practical joke she had pulled on him back in Germany with the royal court, had he?

His sensitive ears caught the soft footsteps approaching the main door. Nicholas hastily positioned himself on the other side, hand ready on the doorknob, making sure that Lacroix and Janette were still busy upstairs. Oh, yes....this was going to be good! He'd just pop out the door, whammy the fellow into telling him what embarrassingly plebeian position Janette was applying for or that her suitor held----and scamper merrily back the way he'd come with neither of his family the wiser. Then at the theater, he'd whisper his juicy knowledge into his sister's oh, so, regal ear.

Ha--- revenge was his!

Unfortunately his opening the door had revealed not some pocked-skin vampire or tawdry mortal but a very intimidating---and very old---vampire.

South Eastern European in appearance, he was absolutely bald with eyes the color of dead skin and exuded a sense of menace that had the knight momentarily frozen in his tracks. A small pendant hanging from his neck held what Nicholas in his consternation didn't recognized till much later was that of the High Council. Good thing or he might well have fainted altogether.

Bumping into a member of the High Council would be akin to spilling wine on the coronation dress of royalty.

Was this a vampire or some sort of zombie from the Aegean Sea come to haunt them? De Brabant would have snickered at the thought if he didn't feel so alarmed.

The Ancient stared narrowly at the shocked vampire gawking at him like some googly-eyed fish not expecting to be hauled up by a fisherman. At only 570 years, Nicholas quickly made way for the powerful elder without the stranger even having to ask. The knight struggled to find his voice---his wits just wouldn't cooperate long enough to make his mouth work properly. Thankfully---at the moment anyway as he knew from his master's look that he'd pay dearly for this later---Lacroix had just come to 'rescue' him by flying down between him and the newcomer.

"Kurkan," the Roman frowned in distaste even as he bowed his head in reluctant submission. "You're a bit early."

"Am I?" the Mediterranean-born vampire smirked, checking his pocket watch in a bored manner. "Have I inconvenienced you, Lucius?" he asked, allowing Nicholas to glimpse the two neat rows of pointed teeth their guest had.

Did he chisel them that way every night or was he brought across with them that shape? Nicholas wondered as he shrank back from the sight.

Kurkan tilted his chin at the 'adolescent' in their midst. "Someone I should know about?"

"Not at all..." Lacroix smiled tightly at his guest, "unless you are interested in my latest 'accidental crossing'. This bastard was just leaving. My daughter awaits you upstairs."

The two Ancients exchanged cordial shark smiles before Kurkan flew up to the balcony where Janette had remained in her own room. But not without giving the Brabantian a long, thoughtful look.

A few seconds later, Nicholas felt his bones as well as the hardwood they collided with crack as he was unceremoniously flung against the door.

"By the gods, Nicholas---what did you think you were doing?" his sire snarled as quietly as his mounting rage would allow.

"I..." de Brabant fumbled for a placating sentence.

"Oh, of course, how forgetful of me mon fils---you didn't _think_ did you?"

"I..." this time he was kept from answering by a hand crushing his windpipe.

"Never mind! Just make yourself scarce until the sun is ready to rise or I come looking for you. And Nicholas...either way, you had _better_ come home tonight. No excuses. No dalliances with some lady fair." Lacroix released his grip and stepped away.

"But Janette? What does he want with Janette?" He looked anxiously up at the second floor. "Is she in danger?"

The scarlet eyes of his sire faded to their normal icy blue, their gaze uncharacteristically mild considering that he had just been disobeyed but a moment ago.

"It's nothing you need concern yourself with, mon fils. She'll come to no harm---I give you my word. Now go. And Nicholas... watch yourself tonight. Don't talk with any more strangers, oui?"

If he hadn't known better, Nicholas could have sworn Lacroix had been terrified for him that night.

-----------------------End Flashback-----------------------------

.

Nicholas groaned as he fought the imposed lassitude of the drug. Now that he thought of it, maybe the Ancient General _had_ been.

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**Review Answers:**

**Trecebo: **I'd like to put a _whoa_ on Life after this past month. Anyway, I don't like my characters in love unless it's unrequited. When a character is in love with another character (canon or Mary Sue) it tends to bring on the mess known as Marriage... quickly followed by the plague known as Adorable Tyke. -shudder- Nothing ruins a good character faster than his/her getting mixed up in a wedding and breaking out the baby rattles. IMHO, of course. Still, look at all the tv series that were brought down after some fool writer decided it was time for the favorite character(s) to get hitched. Death knell, that.

And I don't like Jean either though so far she's not been too bad in the movies. Just stupid. _("Get on the blasted plane, you idiot! You can lift the Blackbird just fine while **sitting** in it!") _Ahem.


	20. Kidnapped!

**7/24/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.**

* * *

Chapter 20: Kidnapped!

Outside in the nightscape of Toronto, Monica was watching her own assignment fuss over clothing and makeup. The fourteen-year old girl checked in a mirror that her black lipstick and heavy eyeliner was on just right, then brushed back her midnight-black dyed hair with her fingers before putting a sheer veil over her face.

"You know, Jenny," Monica advised her charge, "I don't think this is really a good idea. What if the bouncer spots that card as a fake and calls the police? What will that do to those that love you---having to haul you out of jail? You should give some consideration to their feelings."

Jenny Schanke gave a disdainful laugh, smoothing down her dress with her hands. Was it black enough? Maybe she should have used more dye and kept it in the pot longer? "Oh, mom's too busy with her society friends to care what I do," was the flippant reply. "Dad's old partner might have, but he stopped coming to visit us a few years back. I guess all that show of caring for us was just an act for his detective buddies. You know---the police franchise watching out for their own?" She shivered a little. "Not that I care if he abandoned me and mom... I mean, he was just dad's best friend, wasn't he? Not ours."

The angel frowned upon hearing the pain of rejection behind the bravado. Such a lot of hurt and anger from one so young. "But someone cares about you. That fund for your education is real enough, isn't it? I mean--goodness--you're set for life."

The teenager shrugged as if bored by the whole conversation. "Yeah---mom showed me the papers. Something called the Brabant Foundation. Big flipping deal--- probably got our names picked out from some sort of lottery or something."

"Jenny!" the angel scolded her, disturbed by her charge's continuing air of coldness, "You know that isn't true!"

"Hey---let's just drop it okay? You got the bottle of Ribena I asked you for?"

"Yes," Monica opened a large purse and showed her a plain green bottle that was filled with a dark liquid. "But what do we need black currant juice for?"

The adolescent girl gave her an incredulous look. She'd met Monica in a cemetery while she was contemplating the different headstones and plaques. The older woman dressed like a Goth, but at times Jenny was sure her new friend could not have been doing the culture for very long. Still, she was very nice and they had hit it off fairly quickly. Besides, since Monica was of legal age, Jenny figured Monica could help her get access to alcohol at the party. Monica had grimaced when she'd proposed that idea; however, she had hours to convince her new friend to lighten up. It wasn't like it was a _major_ crime to help a minor get a glass, was it?

"You're kidding right?" Jenny snickered. "Everybody into the Goth scene knew that black currant was the closest thing one could get that looked like real blood. It was absolutely essential for playing the 'vampire' fantasy at this club. Even if the incredibly sweet stuff did make your stomach twist and send your body into hyperdrive from the high sugar content--- it beat that strawberry red junk they sold at the costume shop. Obviously fake was so uncool. "C'mon, this alley is a short cut. We don't want to miss the opening act. It's a new band that supposed to have a really great sound."

With a deep sigh, Monica followed her into the deserted alley, wishing she could get her young charge to see reason. The angel really disliked this assignment. Not only for the places the girl was dragging her into, but because all of this 'Gothic' stuff reminded her of poor Andrew. Where was he? What was he doing now? She wanted very much to apologize for her behavior towards him back in The Raven when he had...changed. Yet she couldn't help but hope that his work was finished before hers so she could apologize to nice, sweet, dear, loving, _normal_ Andrew---sans the Dracula stuff. Maybe she could even apologize over a good, hot cup of cappuccino. None of these deluded teenager 'friends' of her assignment seemed to appreciate a well-made cup of java.

"Oh!"

A hard, black wall had suddenly appeared right before Monica, knocking her backwards a step. No--not a wall---a man. Tall, broad shouldered, dark hair and pale complexion, the stranger fairly radiated danger. Behind him, she could just make out another such person laying hands on an astonished Jenny.

"Mm-monica!" the fourteen-year old stammered out a fear filled scream that made Monica's own heart race.

"Now, just wait a minute," the angel protested to the two thugs, "You just leave--!"

The 'thug' smiled at her, and Monica felt what courage she had garnered drain away along with the blood from her face at the sight. She was unceremoniously grabbed and flung over a broad shoulder. The same was done to Jenny and then all four of them were rapidly ascending up into the night air.

* * *

Kurkan smiled at his reluctant audience of vampires as they descended into the Raven's club room level. Ten sets of glowing red eyes stared back as Nicholas' trio of 'escorts' dragged the sagging crusader into the room as well. Each enraged eye spoke of a horrible death they wished upon him, but that was alright with Kurkan seeing that for each of the friends and family of the General, the Council had seen fit to allow the Interviewer an Enforcer counterpart. With them at his beck and call, there would be no heroics dared by the friends. And with de Brabant's family subdued by the curare derivative his benefactor had supplied, there would be none by either the Roman or his raven-haired daughter. Let the General curse his ancestry all he wanted. No one here was strong enough to stop an Interviewer on a Council-approved mission.

_Yes..._

This scene, Kurkan grinned inwardly, was what made putting up with the mercurial Joran's mentorship all worthwhile. With the success of his latest assignment, the forbidding Councilor had promised that he would receive _'more than he had ever dreamed of'_. And there was nothing Kurkan coveted more than a powerful seat within the High Council.

From the back of the room Lacroix staggered to his feet with a Herculean effort, willing his limbs to function despite the poison coursing within them as General continued to hurl every insult he'd learned from a double millennium of existing.

"You offal of a bastard Harpy! You mangy, worm-infested bi-product of a vulture! How dare--?!" he spat in his blood rage.

"Such eloquence from the tongue of the civilized Romans," Kurkan smiled at him. "As much as I'd love to stay here and trade barbs with you, my dear Lucius, I'm afraid we are running short of time. And if you think yourself ill used, remember it was _you_ who tried to cheat on the agreement by hiding your protégé from our eyes." He let his gaze include everyone within the room. "But Joran wishes you to know that he is not completely heartless. You may all visit the whelp before my master makes his decision. In fact," the Interviewer's teeth gleamed whitely in the pale light of the room, "my master rather insists that you _all_ attend the event. It will be held at the southern end of the lakeside park jutting out into Lake Ontario---upon fall of darkness. No excuses will be accepted, gentlemen, ladies...and," Kurkan gave Lacroix a mock nod of respect, "basilisk dung. Until then...?"

And there was a multitude of blurs and rushing wind as the ten Enforcers and Kurkan departed The Raven with their captive.

* * *

Left shivering together in a damp basement of which the only light source was from a sputtering electric bulb fixture over their heads, Monica did her best to comfort Jenny Schanke. She wasn't very successful being that she felt pretty scared witless herself. All she knew was that they had been grabbed by a couple of vampire goons that might have given Bram Stoker's imaginary character Dr. Van Helsing pause and all on the order of someone named Joran. Why, she didn't know. But it was too much of a coincidence to think that Andrew was not involved somehow. But was the kidnapping to use her against Andrew, or her assignment against his? And how would they get Jenny out of this? If nothing else, she and the girl were hardly dressed to keep out the chill from the cold stones of their prison, Monica thought in her misery. She wrapped her arms around Jenny's trembling body to conserve warmth each other's warmth. Oh what she wouldn't give for a nice, hot, 24-oz cup of steaming cappuccino. Preferably one delivered by a warrior angel... or two...or three... or four...

That was _warriors_, not cups. Not that she would protest having as much of the hot liquid as her body could hold either, mind.

"Monica?"

"Tess!" the young angel excitedly exclaimed before hurriedly lowered her voice to a whisper as Monica belatedly remembered the sleeping girl in her lap and the vampires upstairs. "Tess, you've got to help us...there are these rejects from Plan 9 From Outer Space running around here!"

"I know _that_, baby." Tess said as she laid a shawl over the sleeping human girl. She frowned at her 'Miss Wings'. "And just when did you ever watch that particular movie?"

The pretty casework angel blushed as she stammered, "Um...uh... it was playing one evening on TV. Part of some show featuring a couple of robots and this guy all poking fun at it? Honest, Tess---I thought it was a science show at first! At least, the title of the thing had 'science' in it.'

"So after you realized your mistake, just how much longer was it before you changed the channel?"

Monica looked guiltily at her supervisor's tapping foot and inwardly cringed. "Well...Andrew thought it was kind of funny so we..."

"Stayed and watched the whole thing," Tess finished for her. She rolled her eyes and sent out a silent prayer for strength. "Honestly, Baby, when you get together with Angel Boy its all I can do to keep up."

"Speaking of whom," Monica asked, her eyes shining with worry, "how is Andrew?"

"If you're asking if he's still got those extra dental accessories, then I'm going to have to disappoint you and say 'yes', Angel Girl. But for how he's feeling emotionally right now... Probably not so good seeing as he's temporarily lost sight of his assignment."

"He did? Oh, poor Andrew," Monica empathized, knowing how seriously her sensitive friend took his responsibilities. "He must feel terrible. But how did he--?"

There was a clanking sound as the basement door was opened, letting a stream of artificial light bathe the majority of the basement that had been hidden in shadow. Tess---whose non-corporeal form was hidden from mortal and immortal eyes---watched as a large, bald vampire stepped aside enough for another monster to force a third figure along the brink of the stone staircase. Monica just caught a glimpse of a blond-haired man wearing somewhat old-fashioned clothing before the hapless person was flung down amidst snickering laughter. He landed in a tumbled heap at the foot of the staircase, face away from the angels and groaning quietly to himself.

"Joran figured that you'd rather not snack on the child," Monica heard someone say to the fallen man, "so I had them bring you another to feast upon before tonight. Do try not to make a mess of it though, de Brabant, and clean your plate thoroughly---he doesn't like bloody stains all over the walls. They are too hard to clean."

The door closed with another loud clank, leaving the entire basement bathed in shadow except for the space where the original occupants huddled.

"Oh my goodness," Monica gasped, starting to rise to her feet as Jenny was snuffling awake, "they've hurt that poor man---I've got to see if I can help him." Her supervisor moved in the way.

"Stay right where you are, Miss Wings."

Monica blinked in surprise. The man needed aid and right away. He could have broken bones or even a concussion thanks to the malicious behavior of their captors. "But Tess---he's hurt."

"Honey," her supervisor quietly informed her, "he's also Andrew's assignment."

"So wh... Oh." The light dawned. "Oh dear....you mean that's a... a..." Monica looked down at Jenny who was now fully awake, staring into the darkness. Monica had no idea just when she had woken--- how much she had seen and heard. Suddenly Jenny clutched Monica hard enough to make the angel wince. Looking back in the direction where the man had fallen, she saw why. Glowing amber eyes were watching them, slowly coming closer while deep growling sounds accompanied their advance. The Irish angel unconsciously started clutching the young girl back just as fiercely.

"T-Tess!"

Crossing her arms, the invisible supervisor made herself visible to all as she stepped into the light to rebuke the vampire using her most severest tone of voice.

"Nicholas, behave yourself right this minute. You're frightening the youngsters and I won't stand for it."

The golden irises came closer still.

"Who are you?" Monica heard a deep, but tired-sounding voice growl. "How do you know who I am? Tell me!" The blond man staggered out of the shadows as if in a daze, his gaze fixed on Tess.

Jenny gave a little gasp as she looked at him.

"Oh, my Gawd--- Uncle Nick?!"

Monica saw a look of panic cross the vampire's face as he croaked out, "Jenny?" Instantly the amber glow died to reveal dark blue eyes. He fell to his knees. "Jenny Schanke? What are you..?"

"Gawd, Uncle Nick...what are...I mean...I think I know--but..Gawd!" She shrank back against Monica, clearly terrified.

The man Jenny had always thought of as simply her dad's weird partner looked at her askance with a tearful expression as if he was too mortified to look her in the eye.

"I'm sorry, Jenny. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. Please don't be afraid."

"Oh my gawd---you really _did_ have a sun allergy and a restricted diet! Did dad know? Did mom?" Jenny exclaimed in a rush, feeling overwhelmed. "My gawd"---she exclaimed yet again---"my dad's partner was a vampire---a _real_, blood sucking vampire!" If she wasn't so darn scared, she'd think it was kind of cool, but right now it was all too much to take in at once.

"No, Jenny...they didn't know," Nicholas coughed nervously, eager to change the subject. At the Toronto precinct, Don had been his best friend besides Natalie and the memory of having seen his plane explode from a terrorist bomb just after takeoff still gave him nightmares. Afterwards, he'd done all he could to help Myra raise Jenny; but then the rest of his own world had rapidly started unraveling thread by thread. He glanced around. "How did you get here?"

Tess answered for her.

"Enforcers took them, De Brabant, what do you think happened?"

Confused and still reeling from Kurkan's 'Interview' where the Ancient had plagued him with question after question about himself and his family, Nicholas tried to sort out his memories. It didn't help that his body was now one big bruise under his clothing from the Enforcers using him as a punching bag when he'd refused to answer any of the Interviewer's 'polite inquiries'. Actually, it wasn't that the wounds hurt so much as they brought to bear his Vampire's automatic survival instinct: repairing the injuries and bringing his body back to optimum efficiency required use of his dwindling blood reserves. And that increased his Hunger. Nicholas forcibly pushed his need to the back of his mind and tried not to concentrate too closely on the siren sounds of the mortal heartbeat before him.

"But....why?"

"Well, I can think of several reasons. By the way, my name is Tess and I'm an Angel."

"You mean like Andrew?" Nicholas smiled, picturing and sorely missing the presence of his friend. Having found out what Andrew was, he now found he could sense that Tess was before she even told him. And the other one as well... Just how many angels had been sent to be with him?

"Not in the same 'job' category, honey, but yes. We're good friends as well as co-workers."

"Oh." He looked at Monica. "What about my 'snack'? Not that Nicholas hadn't already guessed, but with his conception of the world turned topsy turvy...

_Angels, devils; angels, devils; how many turns til they start their revels?_

_Hide before the Horses, see the Devil laugh._

_Grinning Reaper's coming to cleave your soul in half._

_Angels, devils; angels, devils; how many days til the start of Travails?_

_Judgment Day is coming, sinners will regret._

_Blood's the only payment that Death will want accept._

De Brabant winced as the remnants of the old rhyme ran through his head.

"Hey!" Monica's eyes went wide with fright as she looked at Tess to do something. She didn't care to be anyone's 'snack'.

"Sorry," the vampire apologized, "it has been a wild night and I was just being sarcastic. Anyway, be assured I gave up the fresh stuff over a century ago. I won't hurt you." _If I can help it._

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Miss Wings!"

"I'm sorry, Tess, but.... well, he's a _vampire_!"

"And you're acting like a snob," Tess informed her with a frown of disapproval. "We're God's angels who should have better manners. Now apologize to Sir Nicholas."

Her student apologized---if a tad reluctantly. As far as Monica was concerned, these 'wolves within the flock' were simply not trustworthy no matter what Tess said.

"Nick's not royalty," a giggling Jenny felt compelled to chime in with the correction. "And what'dya you mean _you're_ angels?"

Monica smiled, allowing herself to glow. "We were sent by God to help you and Sir Nicholas, Jenny."

Jenny stared at her open mouthed then leaned back against the stone wall. "Oh, wow. I must've been slipped something really weird at the club."

"We didn't make it to the club," her transformed friend reminded her.

The teenager mulled that over and realized she was right. "Okay. So's if you're my guardian angel, how come we're here stuck in a bad Dracula movie?"

Tess shook head and looked up as if beseeching divine help. "What is it with everyone and B-horror movies? Doesn't anybody watch _decent_ cinema these days?"

Nicholas eagerly raised his hand. "Anyone else see the French version of The Count of Monte Cristo? It was quite good."

Throwing her hands into the air, Jenny exclaimed in exasperation, "What is this---the Canadian Film Critic Association? What are you guys going to do to get me out of here? My mom must be getting worried sick!" When nobody answered, she raked them with a raised eyebrow. "You're kidding. I've got two angels _and_ a vampire with me---and nobody has a plan for getting out of here?"

"I'm sorry, Jenny," Nicholas apologized. "But I didn't come here to rescue you: I'm a prisoner myself. Actually, they must have taken you as a hostage to keep me in line." He sighed. "I knew I should have directed Feliks to front your educational fund through another agency. It was stupid of me to leave the link for them to find."

"That was you? But your just a...um." She left 'cop' unspoken, not wanting to sound as if she was insulting him. But she knew first hand that law enforcement officers didn't make millions of dollars. But then, most Provincial cops weren't blood sucking vampire monsters either.

"Sir Nicholas de Brabant, once known in certain circles as Detective Nick B. Knight, at your service, my lady," Nicholas bowed giving her a charming smile.

Monica frowned disapprovingly at this, but Tess wordlessly communicated to her that Jenny needed to make peace with her dad's former coworker.

"Let's just say that I had a lot of time to save up before I joined Toronto's underpaid finest."

"Oh, wow...then... the fund was... from you." the chagrined girl stuttered. What could she say? This...vampire... had single-handedly set her financial future---and she had not thought much of the gift until now. "Gee...thanks, Uncle Nick."

In the face of her sickly smile, Nicholas offered back an understanding one. "You're welcome, Jenny. How's your mom doing?"

Instead of answering, she asked a question of her own.

"You'd know if you had just stopped by sometime during the past couple of years," she angrily pouted, then repented when he let his head drop to his chest and heard him bite back a sob. Had she misjudged him? She could still remember his visits: bringing in groceries for her mom, gifts for her---once a new bike for Christmas. He'd even helped her with her history and language lessons, proving to be a patient and knowledgeable tutor. She almost smiled at that now---he'd probably seen the scenarios of her homework unfold all firsthand.

"Nick...why _did_ you stop coming to visit me and mom?" she asked in a much more subdued manner. His face shadowed as he answered her.

"A... good friend of mine died. I took it pretty hard and had to leave for awhile. It wasn't that I didn't care about what happened to both of you." Nicholas took both of her hands in his. "Please believe that." Then his hands slid away as her childhood's favorite 'Uncle' slumped the rest of the way to lay on his back, eyes tightly closed.

"Uncle Nick---you okay?"

"No. I'm.....kind of hungry."

"Oh. ...um...you mean...?"

"Just give me a minute. It's the drug... my body is using a lot of energy to expel it from my system. I... can control the need, though."

Tess frowned, "You sure about that, Fang Boy?" If he lost control, there was little she could do to protect the teenager without causing the vampire grievous hurt.

The one-time medieval soldier grimaced---whether from the moniker or the pain they couldn't say. "I have to. Contrary to what Kurkan thinks, there's only one here whom my Vampire will recognize as food. And I'll be damned if I let them win."

"Them?" Jenny asked.

Nicholas hesitated. To talk about anything vampiric with non-Community was to break the Code and bring down the wrath of the Enforcers upon both mortal and vampire. But... how much more trouble could he possibly get himself and Jenny in now?

"Joran... Kurkan's his protégé for the Council. I met him briefly back in 1798. He scared me then---I'd never met any ancients of such age besides my own master. But he was nothing compared to the one I met mere hours later..._nobody_ compared with him." Nicholas shuddered as he relived he memory.

_"Joran..."_

* * *


	21. Joran

**7/24/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.**

* * *

a/n Mainly a non-canon flashback, but it is one that showcases an important character.

Chapter 21: Joran

---------------------Flashback 1798 A.D. London------------------

"Nicola, come over here! Help me!" Janette commanded as Nicholas sped into her room at mach five, his hair and clothing already in disarray from his frantic flight to reach home in time for...

Janette's bedroom door was nearly wrenched off its hinges as her vamped out brother burst in.

Nicholas looked around in dismay at the mass confusion within her room. From the tone of the command he had received through his bond with his sire and then his sister's cry for help, he had half expected to find his family under siege from some menace---or that the strange vampire had hurt his beloved. (he'd been fully prepared to deliver Hell to the bastard if he had done!) Instead, it looked like his sister was merely going through another of what he had come to think of as her 'fashion fits.' If it hadn't been for the fact that there was also Lacroix who had sent for him so urgently, Nicholas would have laughed at Janette's flustered agitation and asked what terrible change in the rules of proper accessorizing society had again inflicted upon her.

"Janette, I received Lacroix's message to come home right away. What has happened? Did something go wrong with your interview?"

"You mean that farce?" DuCharme spat out, too busy to even look at him.

Her loyal knight's eyes narrowed to feral slits. Ancient or no----he _would_ stake that bald headed cretin if he had so much as laid a finger on her. "What do you mean?"

Apparently, their mutual anger had caused a flare in their sibling link, for she snarled back in echo:

"All that hype of how important this interview with that bald cretin was---and the base dog barely asks me my name before leaving on some lame pretext. It was insulting!"

Her brother blinked as he realized there was no immediate cause for alarm, and took some physically unnecessary deep breaths to calm himself. "Then...what of all this?" Nicholas asked indicating the clothing strewn about the room.

"We're moving-- tonight." The last word was a growl.

"But..." her brother frowned, remembering what Lacroix had said before. He had thought it a mere bluff to tweak him into compliance. Now, however... "That's ridiculous."

"Tell _him_ that." Janette ground out in annoyance as she discarded one dress in favor of another, shoving him aside a bit to do so. Sacred Mother how was she supposed to choose what to take when Lacroix wouldn't tell her where they were to go to next? Temperature was as nothing to a vampire, but it wouldn't do to show up in the Mediterranean in heavy woolens or likewise in Norway wearing thin fabrics. Such a faux paus would arouse suspicion in the mortals.

Seeing he would get no answers here, Nicholas spun on his heels to search for their elder, yelling out his name continuously until he saw his sire meticulously packing two small suitcases. His father didn't even bother to look up as he barged into the room.

"Lacroix, what is--?"

"Nicholas, you have exactly five minutes to gather what you can or it will get left behind," the ancient declared with maddening calm.

"Damn it, Lacroix," Nicholas glared daggers at his master, "Stop keeping me in the dark! Tell me what has happened? Have Hunters found us? Is there an invading army from the Continent? What?"

His master consulted his watch. "Four minutes. If I were you, I would at least grab a change of clothes."

Snarling at his sire's back, Nicholas brought his fist down so hard onto the armoire that the side caved in. His hand hurt as a result, so he took a moment to look at it. A lacquered splinter was jabbing into his skin. Plucking it out, he licked the wound closed without a thought given to the vile taste of the chemical, too frustrated at the time to realize that Lacroix had not rebuked him for his lack of control or the act of vandalism.

"No! Will you for once tell me what is going on? First you want me to stay, and then you want me to go; _now_ you call me back to leave totally. I'm owed an explanation--- especially after what happened in town tonight."

His sire's hands froze over their work for a split second before resuming their task. "And what happened in town?"

Behind him, his son ran his hand through his hair in a gesture of confused agitation. "I don't know. Maybe it was nothing, but I could have sworn this vampire was....watching me. I kept seeing him out of the corner of my eye not long after I left here. I think it was the Elder of the city for once I caught the sensation of great power, but whenever I turned to look, there was only a shadow."

The hands on the suitcase actually trembled for a second though Lacroix's face was expressionless.

From the main room of the house, came the sound of the door bell, adding to the tension in the room.

"Nicholas---," Lacroix said with an air of quiet urgency, "gather your sister. We are leaving right now."

"But who--"

"Damn it all, boy---I said _now_!" Lacroix growled as he shoved Nicholas out into the hallway and in the direction of Janette's room. "Take Janette to Dover and wait for me there."

Nicholas headed for Janette's door, but was overcome with curiosity when he heard Lacroix open the entrance door and a deep voice call his sire by a name he had never heard before. If Lacroix would not tell him what was going on---he'd have to find out for himself. Besides...if this involved Janette, he _had_ to know what was threatening his sister. Moving stealthily to a spot on the balcony just out of range to be seen from the foyer, Nicholas crouched down to listen, pressing his back against the wall.

"Lucius, my dear sir, I'm so glad I caught you at home," a jovial voice said.

"What do you want, Joran?" his sire's own voice returned, it's coldness in stark contrast to the visitor's happy tone. "Your party is tomorrow, and I am busy tonight."

"Yes... I imagine you are. Leaving town unexpectedly, are we?"

"It happens, _Elder_. I have many vested interests around the continent. Sometimes one has need to attend to them personally and with appropriate haste."

"If it's about that bit of business with the French and the British in Egypt, I can understand your concern." the voice commiserated. "Wars can play havoc with property holdings, can't they? That is why I've graciously moved up my little affair to tonight. Due to the lateness of the hour, it will be smaller than I had planned... however it is ready and waiting only for the company of yourself and your charming children."

"You mean my daughter, Janette."

"Of course... of course, but also the new fellow,"---and now the first note of menace from the other side of the conversation came into play---" the one you have neglected to introduce to my minions on your arrival here."

"That one is not worthy of your time, Joran. I simply did not wish to bore you."

"Really?" the stranger mocked, "How thoughtful of you. Yet I hardly think that one whom the great General Lucius calls by the endearment 'mon fils' can possibly be boring to meet. 'Nicholas', was the name Kurkan supplied, is that not right? Kurkan sometimes manages to mangle names, you see. Detestable habit of his, but one must make allowances for inferiors."

"Nicholas is a mere fledgling," his master rejoined, sounding irritated, "a passing fancy only."

Listening in from upstairs, Nicholas flinched at the words. Surely his sire did not mean that? He clutched at the wall in distress. Yes, his father's actions disgusted him most of the time---and certainly the two of them fought like cats and dogs....but Lacroix had always professed to care for him in his own peculiar way. The thought had been an odd comfort to him. After Gwyneth, no one but Fleur and his maman had been truly concerned for his well-being. Even Janette was more prone to consider herself first, leaving them for Paris or some pleasure whenever she got ...bored. Blinking back tears, he winced at the memory of when she had declared their long marriage over for just that reason---claiming that he would soon have gotten tired of it as well. As if he could ever have just abandoned his beloved, chosen wife. Had he not given up _all_ to have her hand? And yet the very sacrifice of his mortal life had not been enough to show Janette how much he had loved her-- still loved her. He never stopped despite her assurances that he would get over it. Even Alyssa had not stilled... No, he would _not_ go there now. And yet Lacroix---inscrutable Lacroix--- would let Janette go whenever the notion took her, confident that she would eventually rejoin them. However, he would track Nicholas down like a hound after a hare if he left without permission.

Still... as frustrating as that was...it had also been kind of reassuring: There was _someone_ who did not find him 'boring'. But now here his master was telling another Ancient that his son was but a 'passing fancy'? That.... hurt.

Badly.

Unable to resist a peek at his master---as if seeing him would verify that what he said was only a lie, Nicholas chanced a look through the balustrade and got his first glimpse at their latest caller---a dark-haired vampire.

"Funny," their unannounced guest replied, "then this _fancy_ must be a slow moving one...Kurkan judged him to be nearing 600--- and estimating age is something he is quite good at. At any rate, Lucius---" The Ancient paused, suddenly looking up directly where the knight was hiding. Nicholas felt as if a bitterly cold draft was wrapping itself around him. "Ahhh..... But there is the childe in question now. Come down, young one."

Lacroix whipped around. "What?" The anger was plain on his face when he saw his son clutching the stair guard.

Joran smiled toothily up at Nicholas, giving the latter a butterfly feeling in the pit of his stomach as their eyes met. The Belgian was certain this was the one who had been trailing him about the western half of London and suddenly he had no wish to be anywhere near this Ancient vampire who reeked of power and darkness stronger than anything Nicholas had ever sensed before. But now he'd been spotted by what was clearly the current Elder of this city and Nicholas couldn't very well refuse the Ancient regardless of the daggered look his master was giving him. So, swallowing back the feeling of foreboding that was screaming at him to run the other way, he flew down, landing smoothly upon his feet despite the churning in his stomach.

The new angle of view did nothing to calm him.

Damn but if the olive-complexioned vampire wasn't over seven feet tall, besting his master's height by nine inches and Nicholas's by thirteen. In addition, he was a bit on the beefy side. As once mortal horse riders, both knight and general had more the slim physiques of swimmers. For once, Nicholas actually physically _felt_ like a mere fledgling as the Ancient towered over him to ruffle his hair in one bear-like hand. He stiffened under the unwelcome touch, heart beating twice in succession as he bit back a protesting growl. If his master did not defend him, the Ancient was in his rights to do whatever he wanted to a younger one within his realm.

"Why, Lucius---he's adorable," Joran grinned. "Wherever did you find him?"

Nicholas hoped desperately that Lacroix would not consider his prodigal 'passing fancy' too much trouble to accept any voiced challenge of ownership.

"In Paris," Lacroix muttered in what was nearly---but not quite---a challenging growl, his eyes warning Nicholas to remain silent as the cobalt blues pleaded with him to intervene on his behalf.

"Yes... Paris has begotten a good many beautiful attributes. But not this one, I think." Large hands tilted Nicholas' head up and to both sides, thumbs caressing the cheekbones. "What is your heritage, young one?"

Nicholas gulped, uncomfortably aware of Lacroix's desire for his silence yet could see no way to avoid answering. The old one could easily rip his head off with those hands!

"De Brabant," he whispered, trying to avoid the pitch black eyes that seemed to sear into his flesh like beams of dark ice over a bottomless lake. Cold... so cold... There were movements under the depths like ancient sea monsters never seen by man. A lake of darkness....horrors beyond--wanting to drag him into the depths...make him one with it...

He blinked, stumbling back as the hands let him go.

"Of course," Joran gave him a very slight smile that Nicholas took as both acknowledgement of his answer and approval that he had not tried to fabricate a lie---he really didn't care. Just as long as he didn't ever have to look into those eyes again. Not _ever_ again.

"Brabant is a lovely land," Joran continued. "I've been told they grow fine crops there." He gazed appreciatively at the knight until Nicholas actually managed a faint blush under the intense scrutiny. "What were you, boy, before Lucius found you?"

"A knight, sir... of the Cross."

If anything, Joran's smile actually deepened. He threw his arms around both father and son, laughing aloud. "A Knight Of The Cross! My dear Lucius, how ever did you manage to sway one with a sworn oath to his faith! This story I must hear---I _insist_ you and your children join me at the party. In fact, my carriage is waiting outside. Let us go now so that I will have as much time as possible to get to know your Nicholas."

--------------------End Flashback--------------------

"I had an awful time," Nicholas admitted. "Not only was Lacroix angry with me, but Joran kept hinting---practically demanding actually---that I allow him the bloodkiss. Fortunately, Lacroix was adamant in refusing to allow that much, so the Elder eventually dropped it. But we ended up having to spend the day and I had the strangest dreams of black shadows watching me as I slept." He shuddered. It had taken months to get the feel of iciness to depart his body afterwards. "When we finally were allowed to leave, I was almost glad to accept Lacroix's beating for not doing as he'd told me. If he had not been there, I don't think the Elder would have let me depart from London the next night."

Tess snorted angrily. "That oily bastard always was the charming liar."

Nicholas almost smiled at her from his position on the floor, but kept his eyes closed. The Hunger was really bad. His Vampire was afraid as well as recovering from injury and it wanted the comfort of blood. _'No!'_ he mentally sent to it. _'Not now. Later...you can eat later.'_ Predictably, his inner beast was not impressed. It sensed danger and wanted--nay, needed---to be strong to defend itself. And how could he blame it? He was frightened too.

"Joran or Lacroix?" Nicholas asked Tess, hoping to be distracted from the rising need and phantom fears with humorous banter.

"Him too!" the dark angel huffed. "But I was referring to Joran. He knew full well who you were and how Lacroix found you. Saints, child, he was watching the whole thing."

"He was there?" Nicholas' eyes flew open. "Why didn't Lacroix tell me?"

"Because he didn't know about it, Fang Boy. You see, 'Joran' was there spiritually—not physically."

Nicholas looked dubious. "He's an angel too?!"

The supervisor leaned down to knock him lightly on his head.

"_Fallen_ angel, Nicholas. I know you're not feeling your best right now, but try to keep up with the facts. That creep hasn't seen God's Light in countless eons."

"He's an Ancient. Of course he hasn't--" Nicholas began to protest, not wanting to accept what Tess was telling him.

"Oh, cripes, Uncle Nick," Jenny burst in. "She means he's a _demon_!"

The vampire paled to a deathly white.

"Oh. Thanks for clearing that up." Nicholas replied with unnatural calm. "I've got another pissed off demon to face...it's all right, defeated Legion, what's one more to fight? I can do that."

A vaguely familiar face materialized above De Brabant, startling him out of the shock he had been about to slip into as he realized where he had seen it before.

"Adam... is that you?"

* * *

**Review Answers:**

**Louie Pastiche: **There was one quick shot of Schanke's wife Myra standing in the doorway of their home after Schanke was killed. The daughter was only mentioned by name... so I felt free to give her whatever personality I wished. Here she is Goth mostly because of anger at both Don's death and perceived abandonment by Nicholas.

**Trecebo:** I enjoyed that line too. Not a real fan of Tess, however. I was pulled into that series by Andrew. -coughs-


	22. Ponderings

**7/24/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.**

* * *

Chapter 22: Ponderings

Back at The Raven, Andrew was one depressed vampire/Angel of Death. He had lost track of his assignment's whereabouts; and now with the onset of dawn, he and everyone else were stuck where they were. Meaning, of course, that he was trapped with ten of the Community who felt uneasy with the relative stranger in their midst after just having had their securest sanctuary violated. At least the very youngest had all departed for other sleeping locales before the Enforcer 'police' had arrived-thus sparing them the trauma of seeing their local leaders in disarray.

After Kurkan and the Enforcers had left with their prisoner, it had been Andrew's duty as 'senior vampire' to oversee the club and the remaining Night People until Lacroix and Janette were quite literally back up to speed. The first had not been hard seeing as The Raven was always closed for the day anyway, and Miklos had already taken over cleaning up the broken glass and furniture from Lacroix's--as the Irish vampire put it"Bit o' the bull in the china shop bash." Of course, he tactfully refrained from mentioning that half of the green shards had been created when Miklos had dropped the case of bloodwine he'd been helping Janette with when the Enforcers had barged in on them.

Andrew insisted on getting a second mop and broom to help out; however, Feliks had taken it from him before he'd barely started, the florist casting his eyes suggestively at the way to the upper rooms.

Great…Wouldn't that be fun?

Mopping up glass and blood was not Andrew's idea of entertainment, but he'd rather do that then face the General right now. The Roman had been mad enough to chew Alumna Wood tm when Merlin and Aristotle had carried him to his bed, (Alma and Bridgette had performed the same duty for Janette), so the angel was certain that the master vampire would happily settle for chewing on _'Andrew kindling_' as a substitute. Sighing, Andrew trudged up the stairs in no real hurry to reach his destination.

Aristotle was waiting for him in the hallway.

"Sir" the vampire 'archive depository' smiled at Andrew as he nervously cleaned his superfluous pair of glasses. "I know what you are. And I am fascinated by the implications of what that means. But I must admit to some puzzlement." Affixing the spectacle's frame back on his nose and ears, he asked earnestly"You hold so much power within you-it was incredible-like the sun itself, fiery and engulfing, but not consuming. Frankly, I'm still surprised to have survived it. And yet when the Enforcers came"

Andrew saw the rest of the question coming from a mile away. Be they mortal or immortal it was always the same question of '_why?_'

"Why did I do nothing to stop them?"

"Exactly, sir," Aristotle beamed, "exactly. Surely you will explain? It does seem rather a contradictory action based on your early assertions that you were here to help young Nicholas. You have the ability of a god."

Andrew stopped to lean against one side of the hallway, a frown of discomfort on the lower half of his face. "What you saw was not my power, Aristotle. I'm only an angel. Think of me as more of the moon to the sun. The moon has no glory of its own."

"Ahhh..." the philosopher looked thoughtful. "Then you claim the power was merely a mirrored reflection of the true source… but what _is_ the source then? I could not seem to make it out from your mind."

"Aristotle, I am but a servant of the One Creator God--one of many such servants" Andrew explained. "Everything is either a reflection of God's or Satan's work. Some reflect more, others less. Please understand that it is _the Father_, Aristotle, who created everything: both you and I."

The Greek snickered, but it was colored with nervousness. "In that case I must be one of the 'lesser' reflections. Brushed iron to your polished silver? Or am I with this Satan's league? Am I a 'Monster of the Night' and Scourge of the Saints deemed indeed as salvageable and fit only for the fiery pit then?"

He wants to know if I've come to condemn him, Andrew inwardly mourned at so many beings living in fear of being judged and being destroyed. "If you can ask that question, then you are a child of the Father. Satan's own never question where they belong. He doesn't allow them to."

"Thank you, Lord Andrew" Aristotle bowed after a moment's pause. "You have given me many new things to think about---a gift that I prize more and more as the centuries pass. And yet you still have not explained why Nicholas is not here with his family? Does not your God care for him? I would surely think so seeing as how much Nicholas cares about removing his sins and avoiding Dante's Inferno."

"Absolutely, he cares. But..." the Angel of Death stuck his hands in his pockets and sighed deeply, deciding to be frank. "Honestly, Aristotle, I have no idea why He has allowed this other than it is in His plan. Like I said before, I'm only an angel… like unto a foot solder for my own General as the others here follow their Elder." He looked at the door to the master suite. "Speaking of whom.."

Aristotle chuckled in dark humor. "_My_ General is still somewhat incapacitated by the curare Kurkan used---which is not something that has put Lucien in a good mood. I've told him to relax, that raising his temper will not raise the rate at which the drug is expelled, but he will not do so until his son is recovered." The Greek shrugged as if that was no big surprise. "Right now he has Merlin scouring the internet trying to find some clue as to where Kurkan's lair is, so Merlin is tracking any current purchases and transfers of large quantities of blood stock; however, that is a large task for a city of this size and Merlin needs to sleep as well if he is to be of any help tonight."

"Tonight..." Andrew scratched the back of his neck. He also needed to get some sleep before evening. "What is Lacroix planning to do about tonight?"

Aristotle sighed. "On that, Kurkan orchestrated his little kidnapping quite well, unfortunately. We will all go as directed to keep Nicholas from being harmed; by putting the appointment at dusk, Kurkan has seemingly not given us any viable way to 'lay in wait' for him: He knows that all his 'guests' are old enough to stand the fading light after sundown, but not the full force of Helios. Leastwise, not for more than a minute or two at most before we burst into flame. Additionally, when the Enforcers pulled the phone lines, he cut off _that_ means of alerting others in the Community or seeking help from other Communities." The vampire winked from behind his spectacles. "However... Kurkan never seems to have bothered much with more recent technology-or given consideration to the depths that some will go for our own."

The angel ran his hand through his hair. Aristotle was hinting rather heavily that Kurkan had left a few fence gates unlocked. Then it hit him. "Merlin's computer… but if the lines are damaged..."

"It's linked directly to his personal satellite" the other grinned. "Merlin was always paranoid about such things as power outages. I, myself, prefer the less expensive alternative of plenty of back-up equipment; but then, I am not usually in the business of performing house calls like he is."

Laying a hand on Andrew's shoulder, he walked them slowly to Lacroix's door as he continued to muse out loud:

"Have you seen those interesting devices called 'pagers' and cell phones? Did you know that it is possible to leave coded messages on them as well as telephone numbers? I suspect the airwaves are rather busy tonight. And then there is the sewer network under the city itself. One can travel quite a distance underground even during the daylight. Kurkan _really_ should do more research on his target's environments---not to mention on his targets. If push comes to shove, some of us _are_ willing to risk the daylight. All that is needed is adequate amounts of thick, dark fabric for protection; though it _is_ a hard thing to do to suppress the desire to hide from the day and only a few are so willing. Thus did Kurkan overlook the possibility. Never had a good background in strategic warfare that one." He smiled softly. "I do hope the flights from Montreal are not delayed by bad weather."

Andrew could not help but snicker at the look of slyness that had crossed the other vampire's usually unassuming countenance during his recital.

"And all of this means" he asked as they entered the suite.

"It means, my nosey friend" Lacroix growled from where he had propped himself up on his divan while watching Merlin's fingers flying over a laptop "that there will be considerably more at this _party_ of his than Kurkan and his Enforcers will be expecting."

Hands held clasped together at his waist, Andrew gave the Ancient a respectful half bow. "Well! You seem to have things as well in hand as could be expected. But I wonder, Lacroix, are you underestimating your enemy as well?"

"What do you mean?" the General asked looking expectantly at his unwanted guest.

"I'm referring to the fact that neither Kurkan nor the Enforcers are the true enemy here," Andrew pointed out.

"You mean High Councilor Joran" Aristotle asked, taking one of the elegant chairs in the room as his seat. "The High Council members rarely leave their base in the Old World. It's highly unlikely that Joran would come here himself for a mere Interview. He will likely wait for Kurkan's report to be spoken in the comfort of Joran's home."

"He will come." Lacroix sighed in fatalistic certainty.

"I beg your pardon, sir" Aristotle gently protested "but as strong as my respect and friendship for your son is... Nicholas is hardly Councilor or Enforcer material. The results of Kurkan's Interview will show him that." He glanced between the Roman and the angel's dour expressions. "Or is this about more than showing disrespect to a Community cell and its Elder?" asked warily.

"Yes" both declared at once. The General glanced at Andrew in irritation.

"You first" Andrew smiled at Lacroix politely in return.

The Elder scowled. "Very well… I suppose that after tonight it will no longer be my secret anymore anyway." He directed Aristotle to pour them all glasses of bloodwine. Normally as the host he would do it himself, but as yet his motor skills were shaky and he hated to show any weakness before even those he trusted with his life.

Aristotle and Andrew waited patiently while the General savored the aroma from his glass before downing it in one gulp.

"I made a deal with Joran many centuries ago that in return for his silence to a transgression I had committed he could choose one of my offspring for his personal protégé: his pick; no time limit.

Aristotle nearly spewed out his mouthful of drink, while Merlin's fingers stopped their dance as he stared in shock at the Roman.

"That was..." Aristotle coughed to clear his throat "_some_ deal. _Why,_ by the heavens?" he asked, pouring them all more of the bottled liquid.

Lacroix sipped thoughtfully at his refill. "Why? Ignorance and a desire to continue living, Aristotle, were strong reasons not to look too minutely at the fine print. I was barely into my first century at the time. Joran convinced me that my life was forfeit if the Enforcers found out what I had done."

"You committed so great a crime that early" Merlin asked" Had you no master to give you direction?"

"It was due to my _master_ that the crime was committed, the Ancient sneered. "You see, I 'killed' her."

"Divia" Aristotle murmured with distaste, taking a long draught from his glass as he recalled the rumors he had heard. "I think I am beginning to see. You thought she was dead, and Joran somehow learned of it. But instead of reporting you to the Enforcers, he proposed this deal. Did he say why?"

"No," came the blunt reply. "And at the time I was not in the mood to question my _good fortune_ at being given a reprieve. I accepted his offer, and ever since then all my offspring who survive their 800th year are subject to Joran's personal Interviewer. If he likes them, Joran has up to 200 years to make up his mind before choosing. Unfortunately, he has not fancied any of the vast brood I threw his way. Now Joran wants _my_ Nicholas.' The general growled deep in his throat.

"But..." Merlin scowled in confusion for the math was absurdly simple..."then De Brabant's Interview is not due until 2028. Why has Kurkan taken him now?"

"Because Kurkan is a bastard from generations of bastards" Aristotle growled, eyes flecked with yellow.

"No...Andrew is right," Lacroix sighed. "Kurkan is but the Councilor's lap dog. It is at Joran's order that he has jumped the timetable."

"Wouldn't that risk the agreement?" Aristotle pointed out.

The General snorted. "And if it did? Just who should I complain to--the Council or the Enforcers? No, my friends, Joran knows that he could have circumvented the rules at any time and there would have no recourse but to let him. I have no idea why he has chosen now."

Heavy silence fell over the room as each pondered the question.

Merlin coughed. "Pardon, Elder...but perhaps it was Nicholas himself who forced the early action? I mean, if he has been suicidal these past centuries what with that 'cure' business...maybe Joran decided that he could not afford to wait?

"Surely suicidal tendencies would be a reason for not being selected in the first place?" Aristotle mused. "Why waste the choice on one bent on the True Death?"

Lacroix didn't even pause to answer that. "Yes, but that neglects the fact of Nicholas's charm and Joran's arrogance about his ability to control anyone. It could well be simple impatience that was the motivating factor."

"No..." Andrew spoke up, breaking their dialogue, his eyes holding a faraway look. "Not entirely. It was Legion and Divia."

The Ancient's eyes turned full amber. "How do you know about that..._thing_" he demanded.

"Pause and back trace a bit," Merlin held up a pleading hand. "Who or what is _Legion_?"

Lacroix made a 'brushing off' gesture. "A psychological ghost of my son's--nothing more."

The Angel of Death looked sternly at the Roman. How could the vampire be so flippant when he had seen a demon with his own eyes" Legion was a demon. Not a mental quirk" he corrected.

"There are no such things as demons" Lacroix hissed, his eyes tingeing scarlet with anger.

"You saw Nicholas' eyes change color and glow as Legion taunted you with taking your son away" Andrew firmly rebutted anyway, steadily holding the other's blooded gaze. "Luminous aqua is not a natural color for vampires or mortals. You must accept that demonic possession is what happened if you are to help save your son. Can you really deny what you saw?"

Lacroix was the first to look away. "I...suppose I saw _something_ amiss" he allowed in a soft voice.

"Glowing aqua eyes." Andrew repeated.

"All right! _Yes!_ They were not natural" the Roman snapped, throwing his crystal goblet against the far wall where it smashed in a blossom of icicles and ruby, his words bursting forth in a torrent of pain, rage and bewilderment "Some...unknown--_thing_--had my son desperately seeking my help! Willingly begging me for my aid! And for the first time in my _life I had no idea what to do!_ I had promised Nicholas my eternal protection--a gift he _repeatedly_ spurned as if it was a sack of offal--and then when he finally seeks me out of his own free will..." the rest was lost in a quickly stifled sob as the vampire used his arms to bury his face from view. "Two millennia of knowledge…experiences…as _nothing_…."

Silently, Andrew gestured for the others to leave the room. Merlin was a little reluctant to do so, but with Aristotle's quiet urging he closed up his laptop and left with the Greek.

"Lucius..." Andrew said in a low, soothing voice "you did not let Nicholas down."

"Do not speak the ridiculous, Ancient" the Roman growled from beneath the flesh and bone barrier he had erected. "Two mortals---_a defrocked priest and a female coroner_---did what I could not. And you would have me believe that I did not fail my most precious child? That I did not lose his respect that night?"

"Now who is the one speaking of the ridiculous? Andrew chided him. "Didn't he call you his 'closest friend'? There are many fathers, Lucius, who can earn their sons' respect. But there are more who would give their...their eye teeth- to have their children say that to them. Do you have any idea how much de Brabant loves you despite all your attempts to make him stay by your side merely for fear of your power? _Think_, Lucius! If Nicholas had really wanted to be rid of you, would he have stopped Divia _before_ she killed you?"

At that moment, Lacroix could not decide if he was grateful or irritated for Andrew's logic. "I... I suppose not."

Taking a black handkerchief from his pocket he handed it to the Elder who accepted the gift without protest, wiping the traces of salty blood from his face, his manner already taking on again its usual patriarchal attitude.

"Now... what were you hinting at with Divia and Legion?" he commanded as if nothing at all had happened.

Andrew likewise drew himself up as if he was a junior officer giving a report. "When I tasted Nicholas blood, we discovered that Divia and Legion had taken residence within his mind, slowly driving him into madness. I believe that Joran wanted to take control of Nicholas through them: a puppet, controlled by puppets, controlled by the puppet _master_, if you will."

"So... Divia and Legion win after all and I lose my son just as I was about to regain him." The Elder slumped down upon the divan with a sigh of defeat.

"That's sounds rather pessimistic." Andrew folded his arms.

The General gave a mirthless laugh. "Recalling my helplessness before those two as individuals, the thought of their combined power _is_ rather having a morbid affect on me," was his despondent reply. "My only conceivable consolation at this point is that Joran will also find them more than even he can control."

"Oh, Joran would have had no trouble controlling them I'm afraid."

"And why is that…and why the past tense" Lacroix asked, twisting a bit to look Andrew in the eye.

"Nicholas defeated the aliens within him. He's free."

"Nicholas defeated my daughter---again?" The ancient let out a delighted chuckle, which erupted into a full blown laugh. "Oh, how that must have stuck in her craw" He smiled with pride, the light slowly rekindling in his eyes. "And if my son could do this---then perhaps he will defeat Joran as well?"

"Well..." Andrew coughed, reaching for his still untouched glass of bloodwine and downing it in one gulp. "When I said _he_ defeated them..."

The Ancient scowled in displeasure at being jerked around. "You are starting to sound like a damned oracle who tells all and yet nothing in the same sentence. Get to the crux, Andrew! Is my son still in danger or not? And how do you know all of this?"

"It's complicated," the angel hedged.

"I _thrive_ on complications."

"I'm only trying to protect you."

The Elder glared at him.

"Such charity is not appreciated," Lacroix sneered. "Any good general would rather know what he is fighting against before the battle starts."

A mild glow filled the far corner of the room, making both Andrew and Lacroix cringe as the golden light touched their pale skin.

"Oops." the heavenly glow faded to a bare glimmer. "Sorry about that. Too much, I suppose?"

Blinking rapidly to clear his tearing eyes, Lacroix made out the figure of a black man standing within the center of the toned-down light.

"Who the...blazes are you?" demanded the Roman.

"Name's Samuel, but you can call me Sam," the figure said by way of introduction. "And you are General Lucius, formerly of Pompeii. You'll pardon me if I don't offer you my hand in greeting? Undoubtedly, you'd find it unpleasant."

"Very good" Lacroix scowled at him, showing his fangs "you've done your research on the owner whose property you are trespassing on. Now if you would be so kind as to explain what you are and why are you here?"

"I am an Angel of God, Lucius, sent to deliver a message," Sam said in a serious manner. He did not particularly like this being, but that was neither here nor there. He had a mission to complete.

"To be truthfully ungracious, 'angel Samuel' or whomever you are, I'd rather you simply left instead."

Sam raised an eyebrow at that. The old vampire certainly did not scare easily to be ordering an angel around like one of his underlings.

"The message is for my friend and coworker---not you, Lucius."

"I'm afraid then that you have come to the wrong establishment. We only cater to--"

"Uh..." Andrew raised his hand with a sheepish grin, knowing his cover was about to be blown. "He means me."

"You? You're not some bipedal light bulb--you're a vampire," the ancient declared with a look that said he thought the other had gone insane… or more so than usual.

"At the moment that is the case."

The Elder narrowly eyed Andrew with renewed suspicion. "What do you mean?"

At Sam's nod of approval, Andrew sighed.

"My current assignment called for me to masquerade as one of you" Andrew humbly explained, his vampire body fading away even as he talked, replaced by one with the same muted glow as his brother's as well as a crisp, white suit. "Actually, I'm an Angel of Death."

* * *

Kurkan's Toronto Abode: Cellar/Current Time

The face smiled.

"You remembered."

"I remember," Nicholas agreed, gazing warmly into the kind eyes he had last seen in a tavern back in 1228. "You were one of the last men to show a certain chip-on-his-shoulder knight some consideration before he went and abandoned the human race. Would you think it forward of me if I asked you a personal question, Adam?"

Laying a hand on de Brabant's shoulder, Adam gave him a gentle squeeze. "Of course not," he said.

"Are you a ghost or an angel?"

The Angel of Death chuckled.

"I am an angel, Nicholas. One who has been watching over you for a long time."

"Ah. Then I take it I don't need to introduce you to..." he pointed a finger towards Monica and Tess.

An amused shake of the head was his answer.

"Small metaphysical world" the tired knight muttered, but laid his own hand on top of Adam's to show his gratitude for the angel's presence. Tess might eventually make a worthwhile friend to know, but that angel named Monica clearly wished he was elsewhere---and where that was something he could agree with her on, it was for entirely different reasons. Adam felt like an old friend from the get go; which, in a way, he was.

Jenny turned to _her_ angel, her lips quivering with a question. "What--is the whole of Heaven involved in this?" she asked, curious as to how many other heavenly beings were going to show up. The old question of: 'How many angels can sit on the head of a pin?' popping unbidden to her mind.

Her friend passed the buck by turning likewise to the black woman. The _angel_, Jenny corrected herself. Funny how they didn't have wings. You'd think angels would have circular halos and big, feathery wings. Uncle Nick at least had fangs.

"You could say that child" Tess told her in answer to her question. "_His eye is on the sparrow_, after all. God watches and cares for all His children. Normally, everyone has an angel beside them at least some of the time. But this case is special, you see, because there is so much at risk."

The teenager emphatically shook her head 'no'. "Uh uh-I don't see. I mean, Nick's a vampire--not a real pers--"-she belatedly caught the hurt look on her pseudo-Uncle's face. "I mean... oh, heck, I'm sorry, but I thought God was only concerned with _people_...I mean..." She dropped her head in her hands. "Oh, I don't know _what_ I mean." She felt Monica rub her back in a soothing manner.

Tess sighed"Well, baby, I guess it all is pretty confusing. I'll try to keep it simple. "And Fang Boy" she looked to make sure that Nicholas was paying attention, ignoring Adam's raised eyebrow at the nickname she had given the vampire..."this is something _you_ especially need to know-the Father says that it is time that you found out since the Enemy will not hesitate to use it as a weapon against you. Forewarned is forearmed."

That got everybody's attention. Adam gave her a knowing look, having just received his own confirmation that it _was_ time. Satisfied that they were all ears, Tess began to tell the story of the origin of vampires.

* * *

**Review Answers: (if I captured the wrong reviews... mea culpa.)**

**From: Superfan: "How come Nick is so hesitant to believe in demons? Didn't he become a believer in ghosts after that haunted-house murder? I forget the episode's title. But, the house in question was like a Canadian version of Rose Red Manor."**

Yes, I remember that episode. But to someone raised Catholic demons and ghosts are two different things. (Actually, Nick's first experience with ghosts was that of his former lover the vampiress who loved the theatre with a passion but then decided to commit suicide when she thought her inspiration for new plays had run out. The Kelva(?) House third season episode came much later. Btw, seasons one and two are now out in dvd! (Yes-mama!) Though I really wish they'd toned down the vampire stuff on the dvd box cover. Ugh. You'd think you were buying a Buffy or Dracula horror set instead of a thoughtful crime/psychological drama. Oh well. I just watched A More Permanent Hell again. After that, who really cares about the stupid cover choice? grins

Oh yeah... the second part of your question... Nick isn't so much hesitant to believe in demons as he doesn't want to believe he has to deal with them. The boyo is wanting to live in Egypt, as it were. (Oh, the Land of de Nile.) Who can blame him? It's like being told a beloved relative is dead... even if you see the corpse... part of you insists they will be walking through that door any minute now... yeah... any minute.

**From: trecebo : Oh! Adam is coming to play too? Yes! Charles Rocket did a great job with the more humorous angel of death. Andrew is very compassionate and such but Adam has a (cough) wicked (cough-cough) sense of humor. And now I know more about vamps that I wanted but, hey, it makes the story move along nicely.**

Afraid the only thing I know of the angels (save Andrew, Tess, and Monica) is what I've read in fanfic. Family members in control of tv sets preferred to watch other shows during its time slot. I only saw enough eps to make me fall for Andrew. What can I say?

Cohen and Parriot (and the actors) did a wonderful job creating believable vampires (eh, barring those atrocious glowing eye effects they used in the beginning of the first season). Get or rent season 2. Watch the episode More Permanent Hell where everyone believes that an asteroid is going to create a 20-year Nuclear-type winter. Lacroix's reaction is gut wrenching in its controlled shock/fear. First time I developed real sympathy for the bastard's situation. And it's the first glimpse we get of Divia's twisted evil as well as LC's love/hate relationship with his daughter. God, I love this stuff. This was also the last season with Don Schanke who I much preferred to Tracy Vetter.


	23. History Lessons

**7/24/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.**

**Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.**

**Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.**

**I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.**

* * *

Chapter 23: History Lesson

A/N: For purpose of this story I am ignoring the existence of The Butcher from the Jack the Ripper Episode of Forever Knight. If you must have a reason why he was not mentioned in the following story by Adam and Sam, then I will say that The Butcher was too insane to meet the requirements Evil needed.

* * *

The Raven nightclub: Upper Floor/Current Time

"Death!" Lacroix roared, managing to get up and take a couple of almost normal steps. "I will not allow my son to be taken by Death!"

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Andrew hastily threw up his hands in a gesture of truce. "I'm not '_Death_'. I'm just an... Oh, never mind. Just trust me in that we would both very much like to see Nicholas alive and well."

"And you," the Elder grit his teeth as he fixed ruby eyes on Sam. "What are you?"

"Me?" Sam smiled easily. "I'm his supervisor. Well, when he isn't working under Tess that is."

"_Supervisor?_"

Lacroix managed to make the job title sound like some sort of curse word. Fortunately, Sam had come expecting the vampire to act abusive and took it in stride.

"Yes. We all need someone more experienced to show us how to do things properly and give advice. And right now, Mr. Lacroix, I would advice that you trust my young friend here. _And_ that you get some sleep. Tonight is going to be a major battle, sir, and you will need to be at your best." He produced a green bottle from under his jacket and set it down on the side table. "Here…a gift from one Father to another." Giving the stunned vampire a gracious nod, he departed as suddenly as he had come, taking Andrew with him.

Silently, Lacroix went up to the side table and tentatively picked up the bottle. When the glass did not sear his fingers, he opened it up and sniffed. It was blood. The elixir of life with an aroma that spoke of ripening grapes under a warm sun and wildflowers budding along the Mediterranean Sea; of long summers and cool breezes that played with children's hair as they themselves played their games together. Taking another goblet, he poured himself some of the red liquid and took a wary sip.

It tasted like...

_peace..._

_comfort..._

It tasted like...

_Heaven._

* * *

[Kurkan's Toronto Abode: Cellar/Current Time]

Andrew felt himself re-materializing beside Sam in a dank cellar. Spotting Monica with Tess, he made to greet them, but Sam's voice whispered into his ear:

"No, Andrew. They can't see us and we will not disturb them just yet. Tess is about to recite a bit of early history for Nicholas. This is important, and something the Father wants you to hear as well. Just listen."

Tess cleared her throat as she began:

"Now, Babies, this is all just another battle of the Great War that was waged between the Father's angels and Satan's minions back before the beginning of Time itself. Satan was banished to Earth, but lost dominion over it when the Father created Man and gave it to him."

"Hey-I think I remember that from Sunday School," Jenny chimed in. "The devil was jealous of Adam and Eve, so he tempted Eve with some apple that was supposed to be good, but was really poisonous-sort of like in Snow White," the teenager finished sagely.

_Snow White?_ Tess smiled tightly over gritted teeth as the rest of the angels (both seen and unseen) and one reclining vampire tried to stifle their laughter. Dear, Father! What was the educational system coming too?

"Um... actually, Jenny," Monica whispered as she gulped down her giggles, "it was the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge she ate. Not an apple."

"Oh. Whatever," the girl shrugged.

Tess rolled her eyes. "As I was _saying…_?"

Her audience hurriedly settled down again.

"Eve ate the _fruit_ and Man fell from Grace, losing his direct communication with the Father." She looked askance at Jenny. "Like a personal, one-touch dial up on a cell phone," she clarified before the teenager could say anything. "Now Man was susceptible to all the darts that Satan and his demons could throw at them, including hunger, age, pain, anger, and death.

After a time, Eve gave birth to a couple of boys. One of them they named Abel; the other, Cain. But Cain and Abel didn't get along very well and Cain became consumed with jealousy over Abel's easy friendship with God. So he murdered his brother and tried to feign ignorance of the deed when the Father asked him about it. But the Father was not fooled, and voiced the Truth of the matter: Abel's blood had been spilled-and Cain's actions were the cause.

"Wow," The teenager couldn't refrain from interrupting yet again, "you mean God was the first homicide detective on the scene and did the pathological report?"

De Brabant burst out laughing again, hugging his sides tightly when they started to ache from the strain. Monica placed a warning finger over her mouth and shook her head at Jenny, though her own lips threatened to crack open with more than a smile. Adam had his face buried in his hands, shoulders shaking.

Angrily tapping her foot, Tess glared at Adam while warning the prone vampire, "It wasn't _that_ funny, Fang Boy."

Oh, yes it was! Nicholas and Adam wanted to say, but seeing the stormy look on Tess's face chose instead to cough out a more tactful: "Yes'm" as he dutifully tried to curb his mirth-though it had been a wonderful distraction from his ongoing hunger pains..

"You'd better "yes, ma'am", Fang Boy, and pay attention, because there isn't anything funny about this next part at all," she scowled at him with a serious expression in her eye.

"Then the Father told Cain that as a consequence of his having taken a life, the earth would no longer provide him with its food. Furthermore, he would become a wanderer upon the face of the world, never being able to call one place home, and hunted by those who had once been his brothers."

The icy chill of foreboding struck the vampire and he automatically called for help.

"Adam?" Nicholas' eyes widened and his voice quavered a bit as the implication of this retelling of Genesis 4 began to fall into place. Although he had long been familiar with the story, never before had it really sunk in. Unconsciously, his right hand sought the angel's, forcing Adam to quickly convert his cells to a more fleshy covering to prevent the vampire becoming severely burned by his spiritual hand.

"Ssh...Nick." the Angel of Death soothed. "It will be okay. This won't define who _you_ are."

Tess continued on, "And Cain pleaded to the Father that all of this would be more than he could stand: to be separate from His Grace, and without a home, and that everyone who he came across would try to kill him. So the Father granted him this mercy that his protection would be given to Cain and his progeny that none could hurt them without suffering even greater harm. And the Father sealed this promise by setting a mark upon Cain so that everyone would know he was protected."

Sam chose that moment to become visible to the others, signaling for Andrew to do the same.

Looking away from the figures quietly weeping together in front of her, Monica gave a start to see her two friends appear. She was relieved to see that both Sam and Andrew were in their true forms and started to give the latter a little smile and wave-but then Andrew's body seemed to shift as he knelt down across from Adam and Monica knew he was a vampire again. Choking back a little cry of distress, she hurriedly lowered her hand, feeling ashamed that she could still feel this way despite all of Tess' admonishments.

Sam waited until both of the two Angels of Death were beside de Brabant in a form safe for him to touch before he confronted the trembling vampire.

"Nicholas de Brabant, do you understand the story?" Sam asked in a gruff, yet not unkind way.

It was obvious from his shaking that the once Catholic defender of his Church _did _understand quite well and that the knowledge was proving very hard to swallow. Sam disliked having to be the bringer of such anguish to De Brabant; but as Jehovah had explained, it was better he face the shock of it now while amongst God's angels then later amongst the demons who would not hesitate to do all they possibly could to tear and worsen any wounds.

Straightening, Sam began to recite the ancient history of the Night People, alternating in the chore with Adam's help.

"When Cain ended Abel's life, he started the path down into darkness for himself and all his future children. Afraid of their fellows and ever forced to move from place to place as the Father's mark of protection, (the gift of immunity from disease and destruction save by a few means), became seen as a way to identify them, the children of Cain chose to shun the Light. They hide from every vestige of God's glory until it actually became painful to them to feel its presence."

"Unable to eat from the fruit of the earth, they became drinkers of blood such as Cain had so willfully spilled, their bodies becoming adapted to the will of the darkness that they surrounded themselves with in their shame. But like a man whose other senses strengthen after blindness strikes, the Cain children gained new senses and abilities that seemed almost godlike to Abel's children-and the Day People's hearts grew harder against these 'Night People'. The fear between the two deepened until finally the Night People chose to hide themselves totally from the Day--- whereas before they had attempted to coexist as much as was possible. And those of the Day in their fear and disgust tried to wipe out the Night. Yet the Father's promise held, and the children of Abel found that when they killed those of Cain that disease would strike their own-but not those of the Night. So the two People's shunning of each other became total, each socializing only within their own group."

Sam became silent while Adam cleared his throat to continue the recital.

"Now there were others watching this all unfold with great interest: this conflict between Day and Night. Satan and his followers were enamored of these new ones who still held the right of Dominion over Earth, yet had forgotten that they did so---even when they still used it; just as they of the Day came to forget how to use and twisted the meaning of what they, perversely, still remembered was theirs. And the demons saw that if they could gain control of the Night People, then they could use them and their abilities to cause wholesale slaughter amongst the Day; for it would be like having a man who was an expert swordsman even though he did not know what a sword was called, fighting a duel with another who knew a great deal about swords-but had never touched one. Then they had only to wait as the Night starved into extinction after having killed their estranged brothers. Or even killed themselves off as well as each fought to survive. Dominion would by default fall again to Pure Darkness," Adam smirked to add, "-a form of 'squatter's rights, if you will."

Sam almost rolled his eyes before retaking the story.

"But there was just one problem to getting what they wanted-the same protection that bound the physical world also bound the spiritual. Neither Angel of God nor Demon of Satan could cause direct harm to a child of Cain without suffering something seven times as bad. However, they found that there was no such protection existing between the Night People themselves. A 'vampire'-as they now called each other-could kill or hurt as many of its kind without fear save for vengeance by its own in return. Satan put one of his top demons in charge of searching for a vampire _willing_ to be possessed. He found it was not as easy as he had hoped, for the Night People had become clannish and distrusting of anyone outside themselves. Nor did they believe in the words of demons as all but the youngest fledglings seeming to sense a spoken lie. And even when one suitable was found, the others called Enforcers---the strongest vampires whom the Community had given the right to safeguard them all from the human 'Hunters' who sought to exterminate their race---would destroy the demonized one when its behavior threatened to expose their existence to the Day."

"It wasn't until 79A.D that he finally found a vampire that lasted more than two nights, and that one was destroyed by her own progeny. Yes, Nicholas," Sam nodded, when the former gave a small grunt of recognition, "Divia and her father/fledgling Lacroix. The demon tried to subvert the fledgling as well, but Lucius proved to be too stubbornly independent to want control by another. Now this demon was enraged. He had waited so long and had come so close only to be thwarted by a vampire whose anger delighted in violence-yet whose one persistent refusal to give up a human moral taboo had caused the plan to fail. And now this vampire refused to give itself over in return. Yet the line itself seemed to this demon to hold so much promise due to the violence at its foundation that the demon blackmailed the fledgling into 'giving' him a choice of 'adopting' one of his future children. Still, none of the resulting fledglings that proved strong enough to survive a test of endurance also proved to be of the same caliber of evil as the first had. The demon was about to give up on the vampire entirely and search elsewhere."

Adam smiled woefully down at de Brabant, who was now breathing in raspy breaths despite the comfort that both he and Andrew were trying to give him, praying that the knight would accept all of this information without cracking under the strain. In truth, the Brabantian looked ready to curl up within himself as he had before Andrew had brought him out of his self-imposed shell.

"But then something unexpected happened in the behavior of Lucius of Pompeii, and this sudden reversal caught the demon's notice. Instead of stalking another immoral human like himself to turn, Lacroix became transfixed by someone quite different: someone who had fallen away from God not by act or deed but by a bewildered and questioning conscience."

"To say the least the demon was intrigued by this," Sam grimaced. "And it occurred to him that if the degenerate were too self-prepossessed to allow another to take control, then perhaps someone of higher morality would prove more malleable. Someone whose guilt could be flamed into such despair that he would come to believe that he deserved nothing better than to lose his selfhood..."

Adam winced as he added: "And again this demon came so close to his goal, but this time it was one of his own who thwarted his plans---for one of his demons became impatient with waiting and tried to force himself into the chosen candidate by sheer will. However, again the protection held-and being aided by love---Legion was driven out. The first demon was going to destroy Legion for this, but Legion begged for another chance. Divia, it had learned, was not dead after all-only dormant. He would partnership with the girl: 'mutual' control in exchange for revenge. And in case this did not work, Legion would be sure to use the grandmother to infect the moralistic grandson for later."

Sam finished the tale by breathing loud enough for all to hear, "And J'ranor agreed." He paused. "Nicholas de Brabant," Sam repeated, "do you understand the story?"

The vampire gazed back at him with haunted eyes. "I think so." the knight replied very softly from where he now sat propped within the cradle of Andrew's and Adam's arms. "I'm a child of..." he swallowed convulsively, unable to continue for a moment, "Cain the Murderer, whom J'ranor intends to use to...destroy...humanity."

"Listen to me Nicholas, Andrew held him even tighter. "It doesn't really matter. A child is NOT the same as the father. You of all people should know that is true."

"The sins of the fathers-" de Brabant began a protest that threatened to end in a wail.

Adam hurriedly clamped a hand over his mouth. "-were the consequences passed down to the flesh. _Just _to the flesh. Your soul and Cain's are _not_ the same; consequences only to the flesh, my friend."

Nicholas tossed his head violently under the hand but was unable to shake it. Still the self-loathing was plain in his eyes. To him, there was no worse a human depicted in the Bible than Cain save perhaps for Judas the Betrayer. To discover that he was a descendant of such a one--it seemed too much to bear.

"Yes, that is exactly right," Sam coughed, wishing there was a way to sugar coat this for the poor man, yet knowing there wasn't.

'_Nothing for it but to plow ahead.'_

"Since 1228 you have been one of the Children of Cain. Now J'ranor has plans to possess you. To do that he will use every weakness of yours he knows to get you to comply and we will be unable to stop his attempts unless he resorts to force."

He paused.

"So, Sir Nicholas de Brabant, you see what you must do if the demon is to be stopped?"

Adam removed his hand so that Nicholas could answer, very glad that the hysterics had calmed to a dull numbness over the knight. He hoped that too would soon pass and de Brabant regain his equilibrium. They only had so much time.

Nicholas closed his eyes. "I have to resist him, hoping he will lose his patience first and try to force a possession so that you can act against him," de Brabant answered as if he was reciting an undercover plan of action to one of his former precinct captains.

"Yes, de Brabant." Sam affirmed.

The vampire took a shuddering breath, piercing the elder angel with frightened eyes.

"They have Jenny."

"I know. And I'm sorry. We will do our best to protect her for you."

"I can't do it," the knight decided aloud in a dead tone. "I'm too tainted to do it. I'll fail. I'm a murderer amongst innocents; my nature is that of the predator, I'm descended from _the first _murderer. It's impossible...impossible."

"No, Nicholas," Andrew began, "remember how you won-"

"_It's__ not the same_!" Nicholas hissed at him through fully descended fangs. He jerked his chin in Sam and Adam's direction then clutched his scalp as if suffering a sudden migraine. "They said it themselves that Legion was a lesser demon with an improper hold on me. This is different! I can't fight and win this one! I'm not capable of it! Look at me!" He opened his eyes to reveal red where there was normally blue. "I can hardly control myself _now_!"

The angels felt their hearts sink. Time was growing short and Nicholas was too mired in his despair. Only the Father could help them now.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Jenny asked, breaking the black cloud of silence that had fallen. "The Empire Strikes Back… when Luke Skywalker first learns that Darth Vader is his father and he's, like, really bummed out by it."

"Jenny!" Tess, Adam, Sam, and Andrew admonished together. This was no time for her childishness.

"Well, it's true!" Jenny exclaimed, feeling kind of flustered by all the glares suddenly thrown at her. "Luke thought that being the kid of the scum of the galaxy somehow made him bad too, but it didn't because he was still Luke Skywalker and not Darth Vader." She broke away from Monica's hold in order to go over to her 'Uncle' and look him straight in the eye. "He became a Jedi Knight anyway and saved everybody, Uncle Nick. If a kid from Tatooine can do it using the Force, then you can do it using what you've got. Dad told me you seemed like Superman to him sometimes and that he thought you were the best cop ever. He trusted you with his life. Well, Uncle Nick-I trust you too!" She fell upon him with a fierce hug as an astonished Andrew and Adam leaned away to give her room.

"Jenny... this isn't a movie." Nicholas swallowed, striving to keep his mouth as far away from the girl's bare neck as he awkwardly patted the sobbing teenager on the back. Didn't she understand how precarious his control was? How hungry he was?

"You can do it, Uncle Nick," was the muffled reply at his shoulder. "Dad never lied to me about anything. I _know_ you can do it."

Nicholas threw everything he had at controlling his Vampire and felt it reluctantly back down. "I'll...try."

She pushed herself off him enough to give him a good sock on the chest. "There is no try. Do or do not!"

He stared at her with his blue eyes, then smiled and rubbed his chest as if her small fist had actually managed to hurt him.

"Ow… Okay, stop beating up on the vampire… I'll do," Nicholas conceded with a mock grumble, turning to Andrew to plaintively ask, "Is she going to still be this way when she grows up?"

The angels exchanged grins. Thanks to Jenny Schanke, they had managed to clear a bad hurdle: De Brabant's own feelings of inadequacy. Hopefully, he would be able to hold faith in himself long enough for the demons to hang themselves.

"God only knows, Nicholas," Andrew chuckled. "But if I were you, I'd tow the line. Now get some sleep. And don't worry-nothing will happen to Jenny today."

"Mmmphf," the knight mumbled, all too willing to comply as his exhaustion was now enough to eclipse even his Hunger. Within moments Nicholas was asleep, a pleased Jenny snuggled up against him.

"Sam, he's in a lot of pain", Andrew whispered to his peer, "why not ask the Father to feed him as He fed Lucius?"

"Because without taking from Jenny or Monica, Kurkan would wonder from where he got the blood and might tip off J'ranor to our presence." He sighed. "Come," he gestured at Adam and Tess, "let us pray for him. It is all we can do right now."

As Tess, Sam, and Adam prayed over the sleeping pair hoping to ward off any demonic attempts to invade the vampire's rest with tormenting dreams, Andrew crawled over to the wall where Monica still sat.

"Hi, Monica," Andrew greeted her with a tentative smile, testing the waters. "You okay?"

The pretty angel blushed and looked down at her hands in her lap."

"I'm sorry, Andrew..." she began to say.

"You don't need to apologize."

"Yes…I do. I've been treating you like you're... like you're...something different." Dear Father, she had trouble even _saying_ it!

"Like I'm a vampire?" Andrew asked with raised eyebrow and that lopsided grin of little-boy mischief. It was the look that just tore through her defenses as if they were constructed of rice paper.

"Well...yes," she replied feeling very flustered, yet with the return smile starting to break onto her face. "Oh, I know it's not their fault, but..."

"Monica," Andrew captured her chin with one finger in order to turn her face towards his. "It's all right. Every one of us reacts the same way at first. We can't stand to see death, so we blame the unwilling pawns instead of the Enemy who caused it all since the pawns are so much easier to see. And because they usually are the winner in a contest." He grinned at her blank look. "Most everyone roots for the underdog in these circumstances, Monica. Think of it. If you saw a cat chasing a bird, which would you be irked with?"

"The cat," she answered without thinking.

"And if it was a dog chasing a cat?"

"Andrew..." Monica groaned, already seeing where he was going with this.

"C'mon, 'Miss Wings' humor me here," her friend said in a passable imitation of Tess's voice.

"The dog," Monica grumbled.

"Would you decide to dislike all cats and dogs forever?"

"Andrew!" She turned her head away from him. "Can we please change the subject?"

"Only if you can look me straight in the face and tell me what you see."

Feeling a little annoyed with her friend, Monica turned back to tell him to just let it drop-and emitted a little squeak of startled amazement instead.

A vampire was looking expectantly back at her, his fangs protruding slightly passed his upper lip, his eyes flecked half amber to half green. She tried to look away, but one firm hand held her face parallel to his.

"Look beyond the physical, Monica," Andrew instructed in a deeper voice than was normal. "What do you see beyond the fangs and golden eyes?" Andrew felt her heart leap with fear that she would not get past her fright even for his sake. He pushed the feeling down. "Please try?" he pleaded with that injured puppy-dog look that...

Oh, Father! Monica sobbed, burying her head in his dark shirt. "You're Andrew! Of course you're still Andrew. I've been blind."

"Fear blinds, Monica." Andrew fiercely hugged her close, heart soaring that his friend had accepted him in his role at last. He kissed her hair. "Satan uses fear to blind us all."

* * *

**Review Responses:**

**Papa Wheelie:** Of course a cliffhanger. Isn't that how stories go? smiles You're welcome, although 'Bang up' makes me think of some sort of regrettable accident. Lol

**Wanderer D:** Oh Lord- cooties! Hah! Gets out can of Lysol Spray. Ordering me will avail you not. Until I win the million dollar lottery, I can only deal with writing as time allows.

Lacroix is... a complicated character (which was what made him just as much a beloved character in the fandom as Nicholas). In A More Permanent Hell, we saw him cursing the Gods and claiming he was more powerful than they just before Divia turned him. This would imply that he did believe in higher powers (the Roman ones of the time). Yet on the other hand he _was _ either still drunk or suffering a hangover as Vesuvius erupted. So we can't be sure. Too, later on in the same episode a morose Lacroix wonders what sort of God would be so cruel as to snuff out all life on a whim (asteroid scare).

Personally, I think Lacroix is afraid to believe in God because he fears not being in full control of his life. (Goodness- he already has to deal with the Enforcers denting his desire for superiority!) Belief in God is rather disruptive to his independence- or so he thinks. Better to just ignore the whole question, right? But he does question God's motives in AMPH, and is willing to invoke His being for Nicholas's benefit during the latter's possession.

Eh... I'm going off on a tangent again, huh?

Anyway, he saw Christianity being born. The Jews believed in monotheism well before that.

So I don't think he believes in Jesus of Nazareth other than as an obscure human who was the basis of some noisome unrest in Israel because his followers didn't want to _let go._ And that he believes in a higher power or powers... but doesn't want to.

The Angels will attempt to follow God's will to the best of their ability. As this chapter revealed, the stakes are pretty high, but they are constrained by certain rules on when they can intervene and how much. Monica is losing her fear, so she'll be better able to help out now, whereas before she would have been a detriment during battle. (And there you have one reason why Andrew was given fangs in this assignment. It wasn't just Nicholas who was hindered by issues!)


	24. A Dream Interlude

Part 24: A Dream Interlude

As he walking through the fog-covered landscape Nicholas knew he was dreaming and wondered how long it would be before the nightmares he had suffered so many times before began. But there was nothing save shrouded meadow land clothed in mist and heavily filtered light shining from the sky in just enough quantities for him to see well without being uncomfortable.

No, nothing to see, though it was not like Nicholas was complaining about that; it was nice to have a dream where he wasn't running, flying or otherwise moving as fast as he could, scared out of wits from something that was after him.

A whimper came from the direction of his right side and he automatically tensed in response.

Well, the peace had been nice while it had lasted, De Brabant thought as he gave into the urge to investigate.

Warily strolling in that direction, he saw a figure huddling miserably upon the damp ground. A small fire pit was nearby, but either the man didn't know how to make a fire, or couldn't get it to start in all this dampness. Nicholas cleared his throat.

"Hello, sir? Are you hurt?"

The figure looked up and Nicholas took a startled step backwards.

The man was himself-or to be more specific-himself as fully vamped out and looking pathetically haggard despite the ominous glow of reddish eyes and sharp fangs. It/he whimpered again and reached up for him. Nicholas hastily moved out of reach, ready to run.

Run from himself.

The knight took a deep breath. So much for no nightmares tonight! Yet precious seconds went by and his vampiric mirror image only went back to its protective crouch; whimpering to itself.

"What is this?" Nicholas demanded aloud, but not really expecting an answer. He was used to bad dreams that were more straightforward in nature: run away from or fight whatever was plaguing your sleep.

_The part of yourself you gained when Lacroix crossed you over._

Nicholas spun around trying to pinpoint this new voice, but it seemed to have come from the very air.

"Who are you?"

_Hello, Nicholas de Brabant, son of Henry de Brabant. I've waited a long time for you to hear me._ The voice was followed by a good-humored chuckle as it added: _Take care of yourself._

"Take care of myself? Wait!" Nicholas called out. But the voice chose not to answer and he felt the first droplets of water begin to fall as the mist coalesced into low rain clouds. A few feet away a simple shelter appeared. It was hardly more than crude bricks and wood with an old piece of heavy cloth tacked on at the top to act as a door. He bent down to enter and discovered that what appeared extremely crude from the outside was still fairly comfortable from within, though somewhat cramped for room. However there was a cheerily crackling fire going in a small stone fireplace and plenty of food supplies stacked on some shelves. Nicholas saw fruits, nuts, baskets of bread, all looking freshly picked and baked.

And they smelled good! Licking his lower lip, De Brabant ghosted his fingers over the simple fare. It had been literally ages since he had found the thought of regular food appetizing even in his dreams. Well, other than that one time when he'd been under the influence of an experimental drug. And for a short while when he'd been shot in the head and suffered amnesia…

Still, it wasn't like he could remember the taste of so many things consumed during his childhood… even vampiric memory had its limits.

A noise from the entry way cut short his inventory of what else might be in the place.

His beast self was there at the doorway warily crouched half in, half out with its eyes glowing as if reflecting the light from the fire. Nicholas could see that it was raining much harder now and that it must have turned even colder outside for the he could see the beast's breath hanging in the chilled air.

"What do _you_ want?" Nicholas grumbled at it in fear and annoyance. The ambience might not be the best in this dream; however, he was 'human' in it-a rare occasion and one he wished to savor for the duration. Unsavory visitors were not welcome.

It. The beast. The Vampire. The savage animal he was forever linked to and wanted so much to be free from whined at him.

"Get out," Nicholas spat at it.

'It' sighed and backed up, letting the cloth fall between itself and the shelter inside.

Nicholas was flabbergasted. The thing had given in so easily? Oh no...it was surely a trick. The Vampire was greedy and selfish. It had to be a deception of some sort to win his complacency. Then the nightmare would truly begin!

Long minutes went by with nothing untoward happening, so Nicholas decided that he might as well eat something in this dream before the circumstances turned sour. He was halfway through a very satisfying meal of dried dates and rye bread when the disembodied words from earlier returned to him:

_Nicholas, take care of yourself._

Startled he choked a bit on his last bite of food before managing to spit it out.

"Who _are_ you!" he asked, still not seeing anyone.

Silence broken only by the sound of the wind picking up outside.

Sticking the bite of bread back in his mouth, Nicholas chewed it slowly, considering the command.

Take care of himself? How much more could he be expected to do in that regard? He was warm and dry. He had food and water. What more could the mysterious voice want of him? Nicholas's eyes wandered over to the cloth that hid the outside from view. And what had happened to that hellish beast?

Suddenly curious, he moved the entryway cloth enough to peek outside.

Ah-there it was. Back as he had first seen it, curled up on itself. Only now it was also looking like a drenched rat as the clouded sky emptied itself above them.

Saints, but it looked miserable out there, Nicholas thought in empathy, and then snorted at the idea of holding sympathy for a vampire. The thing did not feel the cold, would not ever get sick from the wet, and had no real need of anything that was inside. It was fine where it was. _Nicholas_ was fine with it where it was.

Only… it sure looked miserable out there.

Unbidden, the words from Genesis 4 ran through his mind.

'Am I my brother's keeper?'

But that thing outside was hardly his brother.

_Nicholas, take care of yourself._

Angry, De Brabant started pacing around inside the small shelter.

"That thing is not me!" he shouted at the ceiling.

_Then who?_

The question stopped him in his tracks.

He wanted to argue that it was a demon-but he had seen an actual demon and knew that wasn't true. Once... once he had thought it was Evil, but real Evil had proven to be something so much more worse. And now that he really thought about it... this whole dream situation kind of reminded him of...Raleigh.

Raleigh, who had refused to go away and leave him alone even when he had thrown debris at the dog to scare it off. The animal had just looked up at him with those pitiable eyes, begging not to be alone, whining...

Ahhh...

Hell.

"I know I'm going to regret this..." Nicholas mumbled to himself as he crossed back to the 'door' and flung it aside.

"Hey, you!" Damn- what did it call itself? "Vampire!" Yelling at his bestial twin got the dual amber lights of the vampire's gaze turning to face him. Nicholas gestured towards the dry interior of the shelter. "Come on inside!" he told it before letting the cloth fall back in place. Then he hurriedly moved back to the far wall where the dried branches for the fire were stored, grabbing one as a weapon. Just in case... though dream this be.

He hadn't long to wait before his invitation was accepted.

Sniffing and glancing about as if expecting an attack, his almost-doppelganger cautiously entered. Golden eyes settled upon Nicholas… waiting.

De Brabant gestured to where some straw was thickly strewn across the floor and it obeyed, pausing first to shake itself once as a dog would do before sitting down to stare at him again from this new vantage point. It stoically disregarded the water still streaming down from the drenched hair and onto its face.

His face-or near enough, the knight thought; and couldn't help wincing as the excess rainwater slower made its way down multiple paths to drip onto the straw. He'd always hated being caught in an unexpected rain.

Damn.

Snagging a clean wool blanket from a supply of them that had magically appeared on the shelf, he tossed it over.

"Here."

With lightning like reflexes, the Vampire caught the woven material in mid-air and proceeded to rub itself against the cloth like a cat. Well, if the 'cat' had been shaped like a human male of 5' 9".

Tearing off some more of the bread, Nicholas watched 'himself' vigorously-but vainly-trying to get dry with the now rather damp makeshift towel.

Oh well... In for a penny, in for a-

Taking up another two of the wool blankets, Nicholas slowly made his way over. The Vampire blinked up at him; however, there were no threatening moves or sounds as the knight cautiously laid one of the blankets over its head like a cowl and began to gently rub, still half expecting to hear the thing growl at him or maybe lash out with its teeth.

And there _was_ a rumbling sound coming from under the blanket. Nicholas stopped to listen-ready to retreat-when he realized that it was not growling he heard. It was purring-rumbling like some great feline under the blanket!

Mouth quirked in what was very close to a smile, Nicholas rubbed harder-and had to stifle a laugh when the intensity of the sound increased in tandem with his ministrations. Again he could not help but think of the friendly, symbiotic relationship he had had with his powerful canine back in 19th-century England.

The imagery was reinforced even more when his fingers suddenly found themselves clutching nothing but blanket and he looked down to see the other end of the cloth caught between white teeth. The Vampire had let itself fall down into a crouch; weight distributed evenly between the palms of his hands and the balls of his feet. Golden eyes twinkled with mischief above a full, but grinning mouth as a strong tug sent the unsuspecting knight down to his own knees. The human-shaped beast growled in almost a snickering tone.

Oh, yeah... just like Raleigh.

Nicholas grinned back at what was so nearly his own smug face.

Hands down this was the weirdest dream he'd ever had-and he'd had some lu-loos-but what the hey!

"So..." he whispered lowly, tensing his own muscles in preparation, "you want to play, do you?"

Another growl, this time unmistakably of affirmation.

"Ooo-_kay_!" Nicholas yelled before tugging back for all he was worth.

Two seriously mangled blankets and one shredded cloak later, Nicholas conceded the match and fell dramatically unto what was left of the pile of bedding straw-the rest having been pretty much sent to redecorate the rest of the floor during their roughhousing.

"That's it," Nicholas surrendered. His body was warring with his giggles for its fair share of oxygen. He was panting heavily. Plucking a piece of straw from his clothing and absently tossed it skyward, the knight declared. "I am worn out." His doppelganger moved to crouch over him, whining its concern. "No. I'm fine," he reassured it, reaching up to yank it down enough so he could massage the unruly mop of golden hair that mirrored to his own. The beast purred in ecstasy as it dropping down even more to cover De Brabant in a protective hug.

Of course, Nicholas mused, it was also a _possessive _hug but he suddenly found he did not mind. For to his chagrin the knight discovered that he actually liked this creature that would not leave him. All this time he had only looked on its predatory side-and in his disgust had refused to look further.

Or perhaps he had not looked further because he had not wanted to see that it had this side to it?

Nicholas frowned at that thought. Was he the angry herdsman refusing to give up on the cherished 'Big, Bad, Wolf' fairy tale because he did not want to know that canis lupus was a devoted parent and family member as well as a killer of livestock?

Was he his brother's keeper?

Yes. Or at least, he had tried to be as part of his atonement.

And who was his brother?

Scripture dictated that answer.

Everyone.

And how did you treat a brother?

You treated him as you would treat yourself.

Well, he'd done a lousy job of that hadn't he? He was satisfying one side of very being while caging and starving the other.

It was time to stop.

"Vampire?"

It opened its golden eyes to gaze adoringly into his blue, the last centuries of animosity between them forgiven and forgotten in just one hour of play.

Nicholas lowered his wrist to its eyes in silent offer.

He felt the tender lick of a tongue upon his palm and then the twin prick of fangs gently inserting themselves; smiled in contentment at the pull of it taking himself into itself.

Taking _himself_ into _himself_, Nicholas mentally corrected.

And for the first time in 800 years... felt wholly at peace with who he was.

But of course it could not last.

It was the Vampire that warned him.

The happy purring had changed in timber, becoming deep and challenging. Nicholas opened his eyes just in time see his other-self jump up to stand over him, snarling in a rage at something outside the door. The knight realized that it felt a threat approaching, not understanding what it was, but sensing the magnitude of it. His animal side was reacting to the instinctual need to protect itself and those of its family at any cost.

Nicholas shivered, wishing he could stay where he was. For this strident change in the dream could only mean that it was time to wake up into reality.

And he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this time it would be the waking that would herald the start of the true nightmare.

TBC

**A/N Note: The events of the dream were not written to be homoerotic. (It rather was a case of Ego calls truce with Id.) What is my stance on homosexuality? I am an equal opportunity person: I give equal disgust for violent bigots looking to boost their tiny egos as I do those who abuse the definition of 'phobic' to the point it is unrecognizable from that of the Webster's Dictionary because their world outlook is just as black white as the 'opposition' whom they rant against.**

**(God loves all the nutcases, no matter there agenda. This doesn't mean I can't roll my eyes at the lot of 'em.) There... now I've probably made enemies on both sides. Fortunately, I don't care as I have more Earth shaking things to worry about than social stupidities. (Like, keeping this computer from dying on me before April. Must purchase more baling wire and chewing gum!)**

**Review Responses:**

**To: Wanderer D: ** Nope, never read The Land of Nod.  The title sounds familiar, though... is it a sleep aid? Lacroix is a love/hate character. In my case, I love the way he protects Nicholas, but hate it when he baits him. And I will never forgive him for the dog episode. Never. Kyer loves doggies.

**To: Dracowar: **That's a logical idea. Unfortunately, I doubt I'll be doing one as have recently discovered the world of Harry Potter and have developed a thing for Severus Snape. Yes, yet another lonely, angsty guy with supernatural abilities. (Am beginning to question my upbringing that I am drawn to such characters. Freud would undoubtedly blame my mother.) I do love werewolves though. A pity that since the movies came out with them rather than the Lon Chaney type 'wolf man' makeup, they got so gory. I can't stomach gore. Heck, I can't even watch cooking shows. Ugh.

**To: Superfan: **I incorporated who from where? (This is clearly a case of There Is Nothing New Under the Sun. Dangitall. And here I thought I was being original!) Honestly, the title you gave sounds vaguely familiar. Like maybe a video game or a book I saw at the store years ago. But I've never seen or read it. Actually, I'm not a true vampire fan. Before Forever Knight caught my attention, I only had some late nite run-in's with Bela Lugosi, Vincent Price, and Love at First Bite (All being comedies, but only the last one intentionally.). Somehow, I don't think those were good background research material. grins Most of the ideas that hit my brain come to me via insomnia. I come up with a 'fact' then work backwards to try to make a logical excuse for it. Hopefully, my logic doesn't get picked all to shreds, but it's a fun process coming up with possible scenarios that will fit my need.

For the sake of my ego, I'm just going to take it that great minds think alike. laughs On the plus side, since this work is decidedly non profit, that other guy can't sue my for copyright infringement!

**To: FuFuMira: **Thank you, but as you might have read above... someone else beat me to the copyright explanation of vampire existance! I am so bummed. Unfortunately, this is also not the first TBAA and FK crossover. I think it was preceded by two others. (The draft of this story was written back in 1999.) You can possibly find the others by doing a Google as I don't think they are posted at 


	25. Gathering Forces

Part 25: Gathering Forces

Kurkan's Toronto Abode: Cellar/Current Time

An amber-eyed Nicholas awoke from his dream to find all of the angels gone save for Monica, who had once again hidden her celestial form within that of a simple human female shivering from the cold. Jenny was lightly snoring at his side. Hearing a key being inserted into the door above them, he hastily handed the teenager to the camouflaged angel before struggling to place himself between the women and their captors.

"Ah, de Brabant…feeling poorly yet?" Kurkan tsked at the swaying Brabantian as he and a quartet of Enforcers flew down. The Turkish vampire looked with naked surprise at the obviously still intact Monica whom he had expected to find totally drained. "I see you have refused my offer of a meal. Do you intend to starve yourself? I fail to see the purpose of such an attempt." Circled around the knight, Kurkan illustrated his words with a tap here and a poke there upon Nicholas's torso till his adversary's eyes became flecked with brilliant red. "If he so wishes it, Janor will simply have blood poured down your throat, or..." he finished maliciously, "perhaps an IV tube into the stomach if you prefer to continue such displays of obstinacy."

"Sorry, my fast is spurred by nothing so melodramatic," Nicholas retorted angrily, "it is only that breathing in your stench seems to have curbed my appetite."

His defiant stance earned him a backhanded blow to the face from one of the Enforcers. Precious blood dripped freely from his nose before the mild injury was healed; a fact that the Interviewer noted with a smirk for it underlined the Belgie's weakened state.

"Such disrespect from the young these days," Kurkan sighed in mock disapproval as he gestured for an Enforcer to 'help' the knight back to his feet. (The Enforcer complied by holding the latter's arms twisted behind his back before pulling him straight up.) "However, I suppose it is to be expected considering your pedigree. Lucius always had such abominable manners-one can not expect that he would have taught politeness to his offspring." Cold, black eyes studied smoldering scarlet of Nicholas's eyes. "I give you one more chance to submit to Interview during what time we have left together-reminding you, my arrogant whelp, that it is in both our interests not to test Joran's patience."

Nicholas smirked insolently at him, sorely tempted to release his furious inner beast upon the other vampire. Fortunately, his more logical side knew such an act would be pure folly even if he had been in optimum health-which he wasn't. Still, even though he couldn't risk a direct attack, Nicholas realized that Kurkan must also be under some restraints. Why else had the Interviewer not simply blood raped him if he wanted answers if such an act had been allowed? Could this be Joran's orders? Perhaps he should test that theory.

"Bite me."

The dare issued under the guise of a silly human retort earned him a hungry glare.

"Don't tempt me, de Brabant," the Interviewer scowled, licking his lips in a deliberate manner. Kurkan's own eyes became scarlet as they fixated on the drying blood trailing down the knight's lip and chin. Closing his eyes for a moment, he regained his self control with an effort.

"What's the matter, Kurkan?" his captive sneered back. "Not allowed to play with your master's toys?"

"Oh, don't worry, I fully intend to ask for the privilege of tasting your personal flavor," Kurkan assured him. "A nice slow, drink," he ran his right index finger under the knights left ear, "from right here, I think." With reluctance, Kurkan stepped away. "Until then, I think I will avail myself of the feed you spurned." He smiled wolfishly at Monica, who shrank back against the bricks as if she was contemplating passing right through them.

_Perhaps she is_, Nicholas thought as his gaze locked with hers-and knew somehow that he had to do something before the frightened angel gave herself away.

"Wait!" De Brabant growled. "I give my word that I'll submit to three questions if you leave the women alone. You know you won't get anything out of me otherwise, Kurkan."

Kurkan stopped, musing that Nicholas's words might unfortunately be true. De Brabant had proved to have a strong tolerance for pain-probably gained under Lacroix's tutelage as Lucius despised weakness of any kind. It was, as far as Kurkan was concerned, the Roman's one saving grace.

"Three questions is hardly a proper interview," he countered.

"You said yourself there isn't any time for the full thing," Nicholas reminded him, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. "Will you accept or not?"

The elder made a show of mulling over the offer. If only Lucius was here to see his precious warrior-child capitulate so easily to the demands of a 'barbarian'-and for the sake of mere human chattel. He'd just have to recount the whole tale for the pompous Roman when he had the chance.

"Why are you concerned for such fare?" Kurkan asked him. He laughed at a speculative thought. "Chivalry towards your food source, de Brabant? Don't tell me the medieval knight is yet intent on fighting to save his damsels in distress?" The laughter died when he saw the desperate glint in his prisoner's eye. "But you're serious, aren't you?" the Greek, realized with mild astonishment. "By the blood… The rumors are true, aren't they? You drink only animal blood like some filthy carouche?"

His prisoner gave a slight smile, ignoring the insult that he had been brought up that he was an 'inferior' class of their kind; i.e., those first fed on animal blood instead of a human's. "Shall I take that as question number one?"

"Very well," the Interviewer conceded. It was almost time for them to leave anyway. Joran would flay him alive if they were late; while he would be expecting some piece of information from his protégé. "What is your preferred feeding?"

"I'm no carouche, Elder. Drinking bovine is only a personal choice and not a compulsion," Nicholas responded with quiet dignity. "Next question."

As he had expected, the others wrinkled their noses in undisguised distaste at his admission.

"Cow… How vulgar," Kurkan snorted, thinking that Joran would not be pleased by this news. Still, it was an easily correctable bad habit as his master need only force feed the youngster purer vintages until his palate would accept no other. And, perversely, it increased Nicholas's value. If the General desired the Brabantian even with his body polluted by such a vile substitute as animal blood, how much more sweet De Brabant's nectar must be when strengthened by a proper diet. Yes...Kurkan would place that spin on it if need be. The sooner Joran was made happy, the sooner he would bestow on his loyal student the promised gifts.

"Very well, de Brabant, I will ask two more questions which you will answer quickly. Then we will meet Councilor Joran so he may decide on your fate."

"Fine, but let the mortals go," Nicholas suggested. "They aren't of use to you now."

"Don't be ridiculous. They are very useful. Why, their presence has even persuaded Lucius' stubborn pit bull to capitulate to an Interview-if a rather truncated one," the Greek chuckled, patting de Brabant on the cheek. "Now, let's continue, shall we? Time is becoming rather rushed. Second question: What possessed such a 'godly' man as you once were to agree to become a vampire?

"I can't answer that here," Nicholas choked a little, his pale skin becoming slightly pinkish as he looked askance at Monica and his 'niece' in mortification. "There is a lady and a _child_ present."

"Well, who would have guessed that the son of General Lucius is shy," Kurkan chuckled. 'You had your chance, young one. And do not think to lie to me. If you do, our agreement is made void and one of your mortal pets will suffer. Of that you have _my_ word."

Bristling in an attempt to hide his discomfiture, de Brabant closed his eyes as he recounted with as little detail as possible just which mortal failing had set him down this path.

Kurkan smiled at his increasingly embarrassed subject in pleasure. Yes, he was already privy to this knowledge; however, the fact that the knight was obviously loathe to reveal his not-so-pure side for public consumption just made hearing its disclosure all the more delectable. Nothing made the Interviewer feel more powerful than watching others squirm helplessly before him.

He asked his third question-an also previously known incident-just for the satisfaction of getting the same response.

"Louder, Nicholas," he leered. "The ladies are fascinated by how you got the monies to start your charitable Foundation which...isn't it the one that little Jenny and her mother get their financial aid from?"

"Why don't we leave the Schanke's out of this!" Nicholas snarled.

"Have I touched a sore point? My apologies…but _do_ answer the question."

Face pale Jenny gulped several times as de Brabant reluctantly told of his kidnapping a member of the mortal aristocracy with the aid of a human collaborator-all quite literally for a king's ransom in treasure. It had happened in the middle of the 16th Century when he had become enthralled with the idea of procuring great wealth as a way of asserting independence from his master. Exultant at their success, he had then turned on his co-conspirator just for the fun of it, killing the mortal in a decidedly unfair duel.

Monica was aghast. Was this cold-blooded killer the one that her friends had been working so long to help? Why, he was no better than a serial murderer! That such a beast had been allowed to influence this child! Oh, she had accepted Andrew, all right-but he was still Andrew inside. This...creature though...this was a different matter altogether!"

"It all happened so long ago... yet it is something that I deeply regret to this night. Certainly it is not something that I ever intend to do again," Nicholas told Kurkan, though his eyes were fixed on hers and Jenny's as he silently pleading for forgiveness.

"But you did murder… indeed, countless times," Kurkan chuckled, "and the remorse was often only an afterthought at best. As for your use of blood money as a gift, my, my-I begin to see Joran's interest in you: Such lust and deceit."

"I was young and foolish," Nicholas argued back at him, "and, I thought, without much choice if I wanted to stay sane." Again he turned his imploring eyes to the women. "I'm sorry-but what else could I do? The Hunger when you don't feed... you have no idea until you feel it. It is far worse than anything suffered by mortal flesh-the pain is like having a sphere of sharp knives rolling in your gut. I _had_ to feed-the need was too strong and alien for me to control back then."

"But...murder. For money..?" Jenny cringed.

"Yes, Jenny," her 'uncle' agreed. "I once murdered for money and for other not very nice reasons as well. You see, for a long time-I was not a nice person."

Nicholas gave Jenny's ensemble a disapproving look. "I noticed you've gone Goth. Do you imagine that being a vampire would be 'fun', Jenny? To fly and hypnotize and generally get away with things you never could before? Well, it isn't-though none of the Community will tell a prospective 'fledgling' just how difficult our life can be: how you become more of a ravenous animal than a 'superior being' for the first century. Or told not to give a damn for anyone but the Community, because why should you? Can you imagine living that way? Trying to face yourself every night-night after night after night, decade after decade-knowing that you _must_ feed soon or suffer the consequences? Accepting that you _can't_ do without blood?"

Weary, he rubbed his face with his hand. "Oh, Jenny, you have no idea how much I wanted to believe my master's assertions that my guilty feelings would pass. But they didn't go away. I finally thought I could only cope by going ahead and letting my baser self have more control. Maybe my trouble was I wasn't trying hard enough to be 'superior'. I surrendered to the Vampire's urges. But that proved to be a dismal 'failure'. Ignoring the guilt was not a solution for me- the guilt just got worse. So, I forced myself to learn greater control over hundreds of years: to go without for longer, to deny myself with twice the fervor with which before I had let myself slide. It's still not easy, but I won't go back to where I was. And I try to make up for my past. I don't live on that ransom money, Jenny. I only direct my accountant to where the contributions should go, but I don't consider it mine. It's for others' needs only. I won't touch it myself for it would only revert to blood on my hands; however, only my hands would be cursed by holding it again."

Nicholas gently took her hands and smoothed them open with his own, palms up.

"Your hands are unstained by my sin."

"Oh." Jenny said with round eyes. She looked up at him. "Uncle Nick?"

The remorseful vampire held his breath. "Yes, Jenny?"

"I don't think I really want to be a vampire after all."

Her friend bowed his head in tired thanksgiving. He hated to think what Don Schanke's spirit would have to say if he let his daughter slide into temptation. "I'm glad to hear that," Nicholas told her, raising his eyes to meet Monica's in mute challenge. _'We share the same goal, angel. I do not wish her to choose what I am, either.'_

Monica was about to reply when a leather collar with the seal of the High Council on it was snapped around de Brabant's neck and he was pulled away into the arms of an Enforcer.

The crude band was to symbolically show to other vampires that an Interviewer had decided Nicholas was a potential property of the ruling Elders and not of his sire- at least until his employer decreed otherwise. It was redundant of course, Joran had all but formally decided on De Brabant as his, but Kurkan enjoyed putting it around Nicholas's neck. Just as he looked forward to the day when Joran would remove the more permanent, but hidden, chain version the Interviewer was obliged to wear as a servant to the Council. Then Joran would loop the pewter sign of a favored slave around the neck of his replacement and Kurkan would join the Council as a member. So Joran had promised him and Kurkan had for centuries loyally kept his side of the bargain by unquestioningly doing as he was told.

The Turk was glad that Joran had finally chosen someone else to wear his pewter.

"Such an interesting discourse," Kurkan smirked, "but alas, it is time to depart."

"Can I take her home now?" Monica asked, rising to her feet.

"Oh, my… tired of dear Uncle Nick's company already, are you?" Kurkan nastily chuckled. "No, I'm afraid you must come along as well. You see, I've decided to invite both of you to a formal gathering. I'm sure at least one of the other guests will have better taste than our knight here. And after all, what kind of host doesn't supply his guests with proper refreshments?"

Toronto: The Raven

Standing on the silent dance floor, the vampires who had been issued 'invitations' by Kurkan, waited for their Elder to come down from his rooms.

Upstairs, Lucien Lacroix got up from his chair and placed his hand upon the metal of a securely shuttered window, his instincts alerting him that outside, shadows were lengthening as the sun touched the western horizon. Dusk was near, and despite all of Merlin's attempt, they had failed to discover where Kurkan had taken Nicholas.

Lacroix was worried sick. Other than a few sporadic spikes of fear and pain coming from their bond, he had not had any news of how his child was faring under Kurkan's not-so-tender mercies.

Shutting the images away to the back of his mind (though he planned to recall them quite clearly when he had the uncouth Vandal's neck firmly grasped under hands and fangs), Lacroix centered his thoughts on more immediate matters.

Soon, he would be fighting the greatest battle of his long life: the fight to regain his son from his long-time enemies. The Interviewer held the backing of the Enforcers and the High Council. The odds were formidable- likely insurmountable. Yet somehow his child had managed to capture the attention of other powers as well.

The Elder sighed, eyeing the emptied green bottle the one called Sam had gifted to him. Such a wealth of knowledge the fragile container had held. How like Nicholas to garner such… interesting acquaintances. Sure, the boy was always getting caught in the middle of extreme forces be they human ideologists or vampire power mongers. Yet now his child had surely surpassed himself in entanglements.

Andrew was not a vampire at all, but a celestial servant of the Jewish Yahweh; his brother 'Sam' professing that satanic beings wanted his protégé as their own.

Angels and Demons; Heaven and Hell.

Powerful allies and adversaries, those. And even if Heaven prevailed-where would that leave him? Would these angels whisk his son away from his true master as surely as these demons intended to do? What did they plan for Nicholas? Lacroix grimaced at the memory of his own crossing over. If he had learned anything during his long life it was that _nothing_ was given for free. There was always a price to be paid and the amount rarely revealed until the reckoning was due.

Was the price of saving Nicholas to be losing him no matter the outcome?

Idle speculation-for which there was simply no more time.

Picking up his jacket, the General went downstairs to join his 'troops'.

"Janette, Aristotle, Merlin, Feliks, Miklos, Alma, Bridgette, Alex, Ian," Lacroix nodded to each of them, noting that like himself all had elected to arm themselves with a couple of wooden stakes and appeared well fed. They were ready to fight.

One minute later, ten dark blurs lifted up from the back alley behind The Raven, setting a southeasterly course. Within moments they had left downtown behind and were passing above the Toronto Islands, their destination an elongated peninsula of land hugging the islands' far side as it stretched out into the shipping channel.

This was the piece of real estate officially named by the city as Tommy Thompson Park, but which the locals had christened The Leslie Street Spit. During the weekends, it was open for non-motorized public recreation-particularly bird watching, as the many inlets hosted bird sanctuaries. However, on weekdays such as now, it was used by construction companies as a place to dump their landfill.

Tonight, its isolated tip was empty of all but sleeping birds as the vampires silently lit down upon the soil to await their 'hosts'. Moments later, they were joined by others, some from the outskirts of Toronto, some still smoking under their protective armor of thick fabric, having driven in from nearby cities or from the airport. Two had come from as far away as Montreal, all were either friends of the family or ones who owed the General a favor. They come to offer their assistance.

Lacroix acknowledged them all. Ten had now swelled to thirty. It was about what he had expected, and before the angels had come, he had been confident it would be enough to challenge Joran's lackeys as well a Joran himself. Now, thanks to Sam's gift... he could only hope it would be.

The tree of Knowledge was bitter fruit indeed.

Heaven: In the Presence of the Father

_It is time._

Sam, Adam, Tess, and Andrew stopped their praying and bowed as they stood beside a dozen battle-ready Warriors.

"Father," a huge, red-haired Warrior nervously spoke up, "what should we do if Nicholas fails to outwait J'ranor's patience?" None of his brothers were afraid of the challenge itself, but the specter of another Heavenly War meant that many in all dimensions would suffer its consequences.

The Glory intensified, bathing them all in a warm glow.

_It will be well, my angels._

The Warrior Angels looked at each other with restored confidence, then bowed to the Glory and disappeared from Heaven, bound for Earth.

_Andrew?_

Obedient to the call, Andrew reformed from where he had been about to transport to Earth with his friends. He bowed his head. "Father?"

_Evil cannot stand before My Light, Andrew. And the act of receiving is worth much more when the act is willingly returned. Blessed are those that share what they have. Remember that._

Puzzled by the reminder, Andrew nevertheless thanked Him before joining the others already appearing in Toronto's southwestern outskirts.

TBC

**Review Responses:**

**To: Wander D: **_Why, W.D., don't you recognize the Voice of God when you see it?_ You some sort of heathen? LOL Yep, that was meant to be the Almighty talking to Nick in dreamland. smiles

Argh…you just had to remind me of another unfinished fic. slams head against keyboard while mumbling against awol muses A famous saying goes that the veneer of civilization is very thin. We are all struggling with our 'beasts' while grasping one handed to the rope of 'humanity'. Some of us manage to hold on for the duration of our lifetimes… some of us slip a bit…. and some totally loose their grip.

And speaking of loosing one's grip…

**To: Worker72: **Um... Yes. Thank goodness this is just a work of fiction. cough

(Okay, on the off chance any vampire lifestyle humans and they do exist- I saw the Special Report on the news are out there reading this story... for the record, Forever Knight and Of Knight Death are works of _fiction _ and not an attempt to spread false rumors about alternate lifestyles. Let your imagination soar ...and all that. Nuff said.)

**To: FuFuMira: **I have to spout warnings every now and then because you never know when someone will take something the wrong way. Just look at the rising cases of road rage or reader reviews and you'll get my drift.

Glad you liked the ego/id animal/human scene. I'm not totally happy with it myself as far as word flow, but oh well. It hopefully got the point across that the Vampire is no more evil than any other animal predator and that you have to accept all aspects of yourself if your going to strive to become something better.

**To: Dr. P.G. Thirteen: **Forbidden Planet is a classic that I have watched a gazillion times. Also watched ST: TOS a gazillion times to the point could quote entire scenes. Beam me up, Scotty. He's dead, Jim. Hailing Frequencies are open, sir. I'm A Doctor Not A...

Save my creative juices? As in there's a shortage? I think I've just been flamed! gasps


	26. Something Wicked

A/N Well, I've been _trying_ to get this out for days!

Part 26: Something Wicked…

Toronto: Southern end of Tommy Thompson Park

Monica's group met up with the Enforcer who was holding Nicholas at the broadcasting antennae that crowned Canada's famous CN Tower-once the tallest man-made structure in the world. The ones holding Jenny and herself landed nearby and not in any way that showed a concern for the law of gravity. Fortunately, the structure was equipped with servicing areas so they had something to cling to other than just the metal pole.

The tower's gentle swaying from the winds at this altitude was not a reassuring feeling, Monica decided. She wished they could have landed on something more solid like the observation deck far below; or for that matter, any other part of the Tower actually meant for tourists to stand on. But then it was vastly preferable to zipping through the air at 75mph with nothing at all under her feet.

The angel had to admit that the position they were in certainly afforded a magnificent view of the city and surrounding countryside. Below, the myriad lights from the metropolis were as glistening gems on black velvet, the numerous lights reflecting off of the shoreline of Lake Ontario. If only the situation allowed her and Jenny to properly enjoy the beauty of it.

Kurkan and his escort arrived just seconds later, neither of them even bothering to land, but keeping levitated at a slightly higher level than the others. The Turk appeared to be in a good humor as he also took in the cityscape below them.

"A charming city, Toronto; said to be the pride and joy of Ontario province. I really must come to hunt in her streets more often," Kurkan mused to his prisoners. He pointed out to the southwest where a long, misshapen-shaped peninsula jutted out into the water as if trying to keep the Toronto Islands from wandering out like little children into the deeper parts of the Great Lake.

"Mmmm… yes. Can you feel them, Miss Monica, Miss Jenny?" the Interviewer asked them. "No?" The bald vampire chuckled menacingly. "I bet Nicholas can. So many of our race gathered together in one place. We usually abhor big crowds unless there is plenty of blood to go around: there's too much chance of infighting when the powerful meet together in less than an utterly formal atmosphere." His gaze settled on the angel. "It's the territorial part of our nature, you see, my dear." Kurkan hovered closer so as to caress Monica's neck, delighting in the sound of her rapid pulse and the fear scent pouring of the two women. "You know, your smell reminds me of figs and honeysuckle… a fully matured wine yet still retaining its fresh bouquet. Perhaps I should taste the wares to verify their flavor before I offer them to my guests?"

"Damn it, Kurkan-you promised to leave them alone!" Nicholas growled at him despite the tightening grip of an Enforcer.

The Interviewer gave an exaggerated sigh. "So I did." He flashed his teeth at the fuming knight, levitating over to him. "But I never promised not to let others enjoy them. Which human do you think your friends will prefer? Lord Joran may decide to give one of them as a sort of dowry present to your sire if he adopts you. That means the others will have to share the remaining female."

The string of multi-dialect curses regarding the Turk's probable ancestry that came from the blonde vampire's mouth made Kurkan laugh.

"Language, chevalier, such language, have you forgotten the tender sensibilities of young mortal women? Besides, I believe that last is a physical impossibility for even one of us." He grabbed a fistful of the golden waves and jerked upwards to exhale cold air into the other's face. "Do you know, I have quite decided that even if Joran rejects you as a lowly member of his entourage, that I will ask for ownership myself? I'm sure my master will grant my request for a personal bit of play. What do you think of that, eh, Sir Knight of the Cross?"

"I think your sire _let_ Hunters stake him just to be free of one sick puppy," Nicholas spat out.

"Such a flatterer," Kurkan smirked. "However, that was an inaccurate guess, De Brabant. My dear, departed sire met his True Death not by a pack of insipid human exterminators waving crosses and torches, but by Councilor Joran himself. It was a deed that gained him my loyalty." Letting go of Nicholas, Kurkan dusted off his hands as if they'd been dirtied. "But enough of this tarrying… it is time to proceed on. The others have waited long enough to say their good-byes, and my lord is anxious to obtain my report."

When they landed several moments later between a golden-eyed crowd of vampires and the open waters of Lake Ontario, Monica was not sure if her and Jenny's uncontrollable shaking was due more to being hungrily eyed by over 30 monsters, or from having traveled so many miles through very cold air wearing only leather dresses. The angel sorely missed the heavy coats she and her assignment had been carrying while on their way to the club. Of course the temperature impervious vampires that had snatched them could not have been bothered to bring their cold-weather articles along. What did these creatures care if two humans died of hypothermia? Maybe, she thought dourly, they liked their drinks thoroughly chilled before imbibing.

Looking around at the sea of faces, Monica recognized a few from her short venture into The Raven. There was the waitress Alma, Miklos the bartender, and the owner who had tried to hit on Andrew-Janette, hadn't she introduced herself? Yes, that was the name.

An imposing male Monica didn't recognize seemed to be their leader. He sported a bleached blonde crew cut and tailored clothing that looked very expensive. This strange vampire stepped purposely forward until the Enforcer holding the crusader growled a warning. He stopped, eyes meeting De Brabant's. Ice blue eyes studied her fellow captive for a moment; neither smiled.

"Nicholas?" the silken voice solemnly inquired. De Brabant straightened up as if he was a child about to be reprimanded. The tension in the air was supercharged. Monica held her breath, sensing some emotion pass between the two, but unsure of exactly what it was.

"I'm fine, Lacroix," de Brabant lied, not wanting his sire to do something rash and worsen the situation for Jenny and her angel. The look in his sire's eyes told him his attempt was probably in vain.

"No. You are not."

Greeting done, the master vampire turned on his heel to confront Kurkan.

"My son has been kept hungry and in pain," the Elder accused. "Is that by the High Council's decree?"

Kurkan was not impressed with his adversary's ire, knowing that he had the Elder at a distinct disadvantage. "The whelp's condition is his own fault. I made available what food could easily be procured." He smirked, adding, "Unfortunately, there were no dairy farms nearby to satisfy his baser tastes. As for his other pains-perhaps you would like to take that up with the Enforcers." He chuckled with amusement as Lacroix instinctively backed away a half step from the 'Undead Police Officer' standing beside the Interviewer. "I thought not. I suppose you'll be gratified to know that your precocious cub stood up to their pounding quite well…"

"Nicholas _is_ my son," Lacroix affirmed, a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth showing that he was, indeed, proud of his child's deportment under the duress. (Did Kurkan believe he would have chosen to bring over a weakling?)

"And yet he was not so courageous when-"

"When women and children are threatened by a bully?" the Elder finished for Kurkan, beating him to the punch. "Yes, I know. I admit it is a rather annoying predilection of his-yet charming in its own way." (Lacroix narrowed his eyes. If this cretin thought he could shock him with his son's failings, Kurkan would be sadly mistaken. Had he not been dealing with them for centuries? No, nothing that anyone could say would change his opinion of his Nicholas.) "Where is your master, _lackey_? I grow bored dealing with underlings."

"High Councilor Joran is coming, never fear. No, I misspoke-you should definitely fear," Kurkan let his fangs drop to their fullest as he raked the Canadian vampires with a scathing stare, "especially if you are thinking to mutiny against his decision. Think hard on this now," he informed them, "for later on if you persist in this show of resistance the only thing you will gain is a stake through the heart."

There arose a murmur amidst the gathered; some rethinking their stand, others outraged at what was being done. One of them strode forward to speak. Lacroix mentally growled as he eyed the approaching vampire-or angel as he had earlier claimed to be. Lacroix told himself that it didn't really matter either way; he just wondered when the noisome fellow had shown up. Out of the corner of his eye the General noted that his son's countenance as well as that of the adult mortal woman had lifted considerably at the new arrival. A pang of jealousy stabbed Lucien. That his son would take obvious heart in this Andrew's presence, was an insult to his status and to his pride. And what was this mortal woman doing here with Jenny Schanke? Or was she human? Miss Schanke he recognized as he had made it his business to find out about everyone his son had had contact with since his unfortunate attempts at independence. Jenny was merely the offspring of that inane police detective his child had once worked with. But this older mortal was a mystery. What was her part in all of this?

Andrew smiled encouragement to Nicholas, then held Monica's eyes with his own, willing her to take heart. After a moment, he turned to address the assembly, standing next to Lacroix. He ignored the look of disdain the General gave him. Lucien's problems could be dealt with later if need be. Right now Andrew had to concentrate on barring Evil from its goal. Smooth and clear, his voice traveled over the gathering.

"Two thousand years ago, a great lie was spoken to one in order to entrap all. The Interviewer speaks of what your fate might be if you decide to act for what is right. He holds up your fears of what might be if you stand against him. But I feel that it would be just as wise to ask: What will you gain if you allow evil to steal entry into your hearts? Think-"

"Enough!"

Kurkan quickly stepped over and roughly grabbed Andrew by the shoulder, pulling him close so that they were standing face to face. He spared a quick glance to make sure that his Enforcer escort was following. Growling, the Enforcer holding Jenny tossed her over to the one in charge of Monica so that he could join his fellow bruiser in flanking Andrew. Satisfied that he had enough backup to cow the stranger, Kurkan smirked at this upstart Ancient.

"I asked you before who you were, Andrew-or whatever your name is," the Interviewer hissed, "but you were disinclined to answer me then. Perhaps now you will feel more moved to tell me where you came from and who sent you. Or would you rather fight with my employees? I assure you they will cool your ardor for trouble making quickly enough."

"Are you afraid to fight me yourself, Kurkan?" Andrew smiled, letting his eyes take on a golden hue.

"No, Andrew-don't do it," de Brabant cried out. "You must stay out of this."

Kurkan glowered at the knight's interruption. He'd been hoping this Andrew would try to take on two Enforcers so he could watch the mysterious vampire ground into the dirt. The old one deserved it for having earlier spoiled his fun with Lacroix and Nicholas at this very place.

"And why must your hapless bodyguard refrain from fighting?" Kurkan sneered at his prisoner. "Is he too weak? Too easily bruised?" Expecting Nicholas to answer, the Interviewer was surprised when another voice spoke up instead.

"Be thankful that he cannot fight you, Kurkan-or he just might use your hide to sweep clean this park."

From Enforcer to near fledgling a rippling shudder ran through the assembled vampires as a tall, dark haired vampire shot down from the air to stand with the chief players of the meeting. A leaden blanket seemed to descend along with the new Ancient: foreboding of coming calamity and pain. The feeling prompted at least one vampire to recall an appropriate quote from the English Bard.

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes..." Aristotle whispered uneasily under his breath.

The Canadian vampires stirred restlessly, a few looking inclined to just take to the air and fly away, but black eyes seemed to linger on each one and steal even their desire to flee. They stood together like stone statues before the dark Ancient before them. Even Lacroix-who had known this encounter was coming and to whom it was nothing new-felt constrained to avert his eyes, centering instead on the sickly pallor of his children. Oh yes, Janette remembered Joran. His normally composed daughter was trembling. But that was nothing compared to Nicholas, who appeared ready to vomit onto the wet bank whatever substance his stomach might yet contain.

Monica also felt her gut rebel at the cloying darkness surrounding them. Even the gentle lapping sound of the water just behind her had taken on a sinister caste, like a giant sea creature tonguing its victim's throat. The very air felt oily.

"Bow, everyone," Kurkan demanded as he pompously sneered at the assembled audience, "Bow to the Most Revered High Councilor Joran, Third of the Regency Seats, Judge of the Community-"

"Oh, _do_ shut up, Kurkan," Joran brusquely dismissed his servant as he thrust the bald vampire aside in order to stare at Andrew.

"But-my Lord and mentor," Kurkan knelt down upon his knees, forehead touching the ground. "Your humble learner has done as you asked. Both Nicholas de Brabant, his family and his friends are gathered here together for your pleasure."

"So I can see," Joran snorted, casually nudging his protégé back down with the toe of his boot when the Turk started to rise. "Don't bother to get up, Kurkan. I like you so much better down there at my feet."

"My Lord?" the Interviewer asked, both angered and perplexed at this public humiliation by his master. Had he done something wrong? Forgotten some command?

Joran ignored his humiliated servant as he leered down at Andrew. The latter responded by baring his fangs in challenge.

"My, my...The world is indeed a finite place. Fancy my meeting you again, young Andrew; and at such an occasion as this. Was it not even a millennia ago we met? You do seem to still exude the stench of incompetent youth."

Ooooooooooo0oooooooo0ooooooooooo0ooooooooO

Jenny was shivering against Monica as they watched a vamped-out Andrew and Joran face each other.

"What is going on!" the teenager asked. "Who's that big guy?"

The caseworker could only shake her head. "I wish I knew," she answered back. Monica had the oddest feeling that she should know the answer, but what with the physical discomfort her human body was in as well as being scared out of her mind... that particular piece of information was proving elusive. Teeth chattering, she closed her eyes and tried to pray. Something soft thudded against her goose-pimpled right arm, and she unthinkingly clutched at whatever it was with her cold fingers before even opening her eyes.

It was a heavyweight, black woolen vest.

Turning her head to the right, Monica saw that De Brabant's upper body was now clad only in the thin, silken poet's shirt, the dark gray material shining dully where the moon's light struck it. He gave her a small nod of his head, eyes flickering towards Jenny before turning back to watch the confrontation. The angel looked away to where the immodestly dressed Jenny was already wrapping the garment around herself like a blanket as she pressed against the angel in an attempt to share body warmth.

"Thanks, Uncle Nick." Jenny gratefully called back to the vampire.

Her words went unacknowledged which prompted Monica to look again to her right. Six feet away, the blond vampire was practically leaning against his uncaring Enforcer guard, his posture slightly hunched over and his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach as if trying to keep it from detaching and falling to the ground at his feet.

So he had given them an extra article of clothing, Monica argued with herself. From what she understood, he didn't really need it-it was only for show, worn to help him blend in with his human prey as he lived amongst them. He didn't feel the cold. He didn't feel mercy or kindness or love and caring. The murderer didn't _feel_ anything at all.

He couldn't possibly.

"Oh, c'mon, Miss Wings. You know that isn't true," Tess scolded as she appeared at her student's elbow. Monica's supervisor gave the oblivious Enforcer holding her friend a disgusted look as she craned her neck up to study his oblivious face. "Goodness... but they sure are growing them big and ugly these days, aren't they?"

"Tess!" Monica whispered in horror.

"Relax, baby," Tess smiled as she read the thought on the other's face, "Goofus here can't hear or see me, so you just listen. You've got Nicholas all wrong, Miss Wings. He isn't one of the bad guys like Mr. Creepy out there chatting with Angel Boy. The child's got a deep sense of responsibility. Why do you think you're still here instead of with the Father?" Seeing her underling's expression hadn't budged an iota, she sighed in exasperation. "Monica, honey, Fang Boy over there could have drained you and Jenny both before his hunger pains went away. And he wasn't exaggerating when he described what it felt like. You think he's pulling an act right now? Angel Girl, De Brabant is using everything he's got by the way of willpower to keep from feeding from anyone here.

"He's a vampire," Monica exclaimed in a strained whisper, afraid of drawing the attention of 'Goofus' yet wanting to defend herself. "He's taken pleasure in ending human lives." Fortunately for her, the Enforcer seemed utterly enthralled by what his superior was saying, so he ignored her words.

Not so her own supervisor.

"He's also a hurting soul," Tess countered with an unhappy look, "whose trying to save your life even while he's facing losing his own-uh oh."

"What?" Monica turned her head to see what had upset the older angel.

"I think our Angel Boy's about to be in trouble."

TBC

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**Review Responses:**

**To: Dr. P.G. Thirteen: (**Kyer curses FFN's annoying tendency to make her divider lines and emoticons disappear. In other words, they literally wiped the smile off of my face in answering your last comments. What have they got against all but parentheses? Its bigotry- that's what it is!) My brain was strained at birth and has never recovered.

**To: Wanderer D: **Wouldn't we all? During the Inquisition you either had to watch your mouth and/or not be so rich that some Inquisitor desired your estate for himself since heretic property went to the Church. For all that I respect God, I would have been burnt at the stake before puberty.

Monica is being a pain mainly because I wanted some more conflict going on. If all the angels acted... like... um... perfect little angels, what fun would that be? For this, Monica got the short end of the stick simply because she used to annoy the heck out of me (like Pollyanna does) and this is my revenge. Hahahahaha! ahem

Kurkan has indeed received an eye opener. Woe unto those who backstab... for in so doing their own rear side is left undefended. He should have gotten that promotion deal in writing. ... Sucker.


	27. This Way Comes

A/N: Thank God! With PC on its last gasps, I've been doing my dangdest to learn Mac formats and functions AND get one of my beta posts copied to the right format so FFN would quit rejecting them. I love my Mac so far, but unlearning Windows is proving to be hard on both of us.

Cheers!

Part 27: This Way Comes

Joran smiled humorlessly down at the angel, purposefully speaking so low that to even the nearby vampires his words were but a murmur. "You make pretty speeches, Andrew, about lecturing on family bonds and virtues. And your disguise is well doneI can even smell the faint trace of blood on your breath. However, your attempt to deceive me is futile. You see, I remember you." He gave an evil snicker. "Indeed, how could I forget the young _Singer_ who helped to gift wrap my present for me? Since I suppose I still owe you for practically shoving dear Nicholas into the Darkness back in Paris, I may allow you to leave unbroken…this time, foolish choir angel."

"I do not need your permission to be here, _J'ranor_," responded Andrew in the same, whisperedyet much iciertone. Tempting though it was, he decided against correcting the demon on what his current celestial status was. It was better that his foe continue to underestimate him. "Neither of us hold domain on this land… and you know you cannot destroy me any more than I can destroy you."

"No?" the demon scoffed, a bit taken aback that Andrew knew his real name, "well, perhaps not, little Singer, but I believe my threat was to destroy your vampire body. Surely your bosses will be most displeased with you either way. If I were you I would save yourself the added embarrassment of your pathetic spirit being sent whimpering back to..._Him_." J'ranor's lip curled in distaste at having to make any mention of God at all.

"And you think 'killing' me will get you Nicholas?" Andrew gave a low laugh. "He will only resist you all the more. Face it, J'ranor; he has a stronger will than your other prey. De Brabant will never accept youjust as he never accepted Legion. You've already lost the battle, demon..." he let a bit more fang show, "you just don't know it yet."

Both pseudo-vampires were now teetering on the edge of blood rage, J'ranor from his true demonic nature, Andrew by the prompting of his temporary 'beast' to attack a threat.

J'ranor stared hard into the angel's face. His eyes were all aglitter with malice as he asked, "And what would you know of Legion?"

Andrew's smile grew even toothier in challenge, thoroughly caught up in the 'hunt'. He raised his voice. "Oh...so you haven't heard yet? I was with Nicholas when he kicked that pompous smog bag out. It will take a long time for your underlingor is it 'underlings'to recover from the devastation De Brabant inflicted on him."

"You lie," the arch demon spat.

"Have I?"

Jenny's scream became meshed with Monica's own as 'Joran' viciously swiped Andrew across the throat with his clawed fingernails. Caught off guard by the ferociousness of the blow, Andrew stumbled backwards. J'ranor smirked as the fallen angel/vampire crumpled to the ground clutching wide-eyed at the jagged wound left in their wake.

"You're out of your league, Andrew. Better go back to your playpen with the rest of the tots; I have neither time nor patience to deal with your pathetic ilk."

His victim gurgled helplessly, unable to speak as his blood flowed down into passages never meant for the ruby liquid to invade; however, J'ranor was no longer interested in anything the muted Andrew might have had further to say, he had already moved to grab De Brabant by the shirt front with his bloodied hand.

"Go," J'ranor growled the command at one of the waiting Enforcers, "and make sure that no one aids or feeds from the 'Ancient' one named Andrew." Blindly obeying the leader he saw only as High Councilor Joran, the Enforcer immediately went to stand over Andrew's choking form, daring anyone to help him.

The arch demon stared searchingly into blue eyes darkening even further by a mixture of fear and anger. "Legion, respond this instant; will make yourself known to me."

"Andrew spoke the truth," Nicholas gasped out. "I sent your underling... packing." The Belgian glared mutinously at J'ranor before dropping his chin to stare intently at the hand at his chest. Andrew's blood called to him in dizzying waves. His lips parted so his tongue could escape enough to wet them, but that was not what he really wanted to taste.

_So hungry…_

_No… it's not right. Andrew…_

_I need to feed!_

_Yes… just not now. Wait._

"Do you smell his blood on me, de Brabant?" J'ranor asked pleasantly. He snickered as the vampire squirmed uncomfortably in the iron grip yet kept burning red eyes affixed to the hand holding him upright. "Of course you do. And you want itquite badly, I can tell. But that one's essence is not for you. It's too... rancid. No, what you want is something more wholesome; something to make your body strong and powerful again. Would you like that, my lovely? Because, you see, I am granting you the right to choose." The demon gestured at the throng of waiting vampires, his black eyes flecking with warm yellows; voice a seductive purr. "I am offering you a gift, Nicholas. You may feed from any you fancy. Go ahead and slack your thirst on any of themat all save for Andrew. You man even sup from Kurkan. I deny you no one _as long as you drink whomever you pick until they are utterly drained_. Oh… and I want to watch your face as you relish each drop."

"My lord!" The High Councilor's servant looked a bit paler than normal.

"Shut up, Kurkan," Annoyed at the interruption, J'ranor angrily directed his Interviewer to silence. "You have served your primary purpose and I have no further need of you unless this young one wishes otherwise? He quirked an inquiring eyebrow at his captive; thus utterly missing the raging expression that swept over his discarded lackey's face.

The bald vampire rose to his feet, eyes seething pools of scarlet as he hissed at the one he'd followed so blindly. "You promised me power. A seat on the new High Counciland now you would let my blood nourish that Northern cur? Or was that it all along, Joran? That _he_ was always meant to replace menot as your servant, but as your companion!"

"Be quiet, you blathering imbecile," J'ranor barked at him, becoming more and more irritated with his usually submissive convert's sudden rebellion. How dare the little upstart question his decisions!

"No! I served you faithfully for over a thousand years. And now you think you can just throw me aside?" Kurkan spat. He pointed an accusing finger at the demon as he declared to the assembled, "Joran plans to destroy the High Council and recreate it with his own peoplewith himself as First!"

"Well, well, well..." Lacroix chuckled as everyone on his side voiced their outrage, "it seems that you are accused of treason, most _Honored_ Joran. That is a _high_ crime for a _High_ Councilor; indeed, a crime worthy of the True Death."

"An accusation only," Joran snorted. For close to 3,000-years now, he had carefully masked his true nature from the Night People in order to insinuate himself into their top echelon of power, he wasn't about to let some petty grievance by Kurkan worry him now. Indeed, at any earlier time, Kurkan's declaration would have been a potentially devastating blow to his designs; however, since he was now so close to his goallet the blood drinkers rant. They'd learn proper awe for the Power in there midst soon enough. Those that survived long enough to worship him, that is.

Lacroix's voice was as smooth as a silk purse as he countered, "Maybe so; however, from such a source as your own aide, Janor? I think the Council would be very interested in what Kurkan has to say."

"And which of you would have the opportunity to tell them?" J'ranor sneered back. "By Community Law, until the First says otherwise I still command the authority of the Third Seat. At my word the Enforcers can destroy you all."

"Not if you're deadand your new plaything with you!" Kurkan roared. Snatching up a wooden stake from one of the Montreal vampires, he hurled it like a spear into the Councilor's chest, missing a direct hit on the heart by a mere hair's breadth. Following through with the momentum from the action, the Turk snatched up Nicholas from J'ranor's loosened grasp and took off flying high out over the waters of the shipping lane. Silently, Lacroix lifted up to race after them.

Over the lake:

The ex-Interviewer didn't look back as he flew like an arrow over the dark waters of Lake Ontario. Let the hellhounds of chaos be loosed upon the beach. He, _Kurkan_, ill-used and cast away, was going to survive and make everyone who had ever crossed him pay.

Clutching Nicholas close in his flight to still the knight's protests, Kurkan nuzzled the cold neck as he breathed in the scent of bared skin, "Joran would have had you drain me," he murmured, "but I said I would taste youand so I shall." Savagely, he bit down into De Brabant's throat, moaning in pleasure as he drank down huge draughts of cool blood.

Kurkan's preoccupation with draining the Crusader had a detrimental effect on his velocity as well as his sense: his slowing down allowed a pursuer to catch up. A vengeful Lacroix slammed into him, ripping the other's fangs from his son's throat. Twisting to defend himself from the Roman, Kurkan let go of the Brabantian as he grappled with his long-time enemy.

Too weak to even levitate let alone fly back to land, Nicholas dropped like a stone, smacking hard into the chill surface waters of the Great Lake before it swallowed him whole. With little air in his lungs to help buoy him back to the surface, the dark liquid continued to give way beneath him as gravity dragged the vampire inexorably downwards towards the lake's bottom.

At the beach:

With a hiss of pain and fury, J'ranor managed to pull the wood from himself in time to watch Nicholas plummet and sink from view.

_No!_

"Destroy them! All of them!" he screamed to his Enforcers. Ignoring both the beginnings of pandemonium that his command had generated behind him as well as the battle already going on above the channel, J'ranor flew out to where Nicholas had been engulfed. The demon cursed his wound. Even though it was already healing, it did slow him down precious seconds at a time when speed was of the essence.

Though a rare happening amongst vampires, it was possible that the combination of extreme hunger coupled with fatigue and the intense cold could drive his prize into a coma. If that happened, J'ranor thought grimly, it could be years before Nicholas de Brabant awakened long enough to freely give control of himself over to himand Lucifer's general was not about to wait any longer if he could help it. Cursing his ex-servant as only a demon truly can, J'ranor plunged straight down into the icy depths.

At the beach:

"ANDREWLOOK OUT!"

One hand still holding his ruptured throat together while his vampire metabolism worked overtime trying to repair the damage, Andrew rolled at the sound of Monica's stentorian screamand narrowly missed the wooden stake of an Enforcer. Blessedly, his attacker was distracted from further attempts on the angel's temporary body when eight vampires led by Merlin attacked the giant, forcing him into retreat. Seeing that their own guard was also rather consumed by the fray, Monica ran with Jenny over to where her friend was.

"Oh, Andrew, I thought that monster was going to kill you for sure!" Monica exclaimed, "You're going to be okay. We'll call an ambulance…" She unthinkingly leaned forward to wrap him in a hug only to be grabbed and swung several feet away all within a split second of time.

"Your pardon, lady," a balding vampire wearing glasses gave her a grim smile, "however, it's generally not wise for such as you and the girl to get too close to an injured one of my kind." He growled as several of the vampires from Montreal fell to the Enforcers. "Feliks, your flank!" The 15th century florist ducked a blow, pausing to flash them a fanged grin and a salute before returning his attention to the battle.

"Silly orchid hugger is going to pushing them up if he doesn't learn to watch his sides," Aristotle muttered to himself. Actually, Feliks had stipulated in his will that should he ever meet the True Death he wanted his ashes used as fertilizer for his beloved plants. The Grecian vampire hoped he wouldn't be playing gardener any time soon, though. Botany never had held much of an interest for him.

He got down between Andrew and the women. "So..." Aristotle began amiably as if they were meeting over a tea party instead of sitting on damp earth during a bloody battle. "I suppose proper introductions are in order. My name's Aristotle and my friend here is Andrew." (He glanced Andrew's way. The other Ancient had his hands shielding the rather gory sight of esophageal reconstruction.) "But I take it you three already know each other?" He raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for an answer.

Andrew tried to speak, but his vocal cords were only half knitted back together as yet so he settled for smiling and pointing at Monica.

Jenny stared in amazement at the stranger wearing the eyeglasses. Somehow, she had never pictured that a creature of the night could be elderly and wearing a pair of visual aids. It just blew the mystique of The Vampire straight to hell.

"Shouldn't we move or something?" she advised after the shock had worn off. "I mean, we're in the middle of a flippin' major battle zone!"

"My dear young lady" the philosopher calmly replied, "we are not in the _middle_, we are on the outskirts. And this is hardly major...at least not yet. Now to see real carnage, the Battle of Hastings back in"

Andrew reached over and thumped him on the shoulder.

"Sorry," Aristotle smiled apologetically at them over the rim of his glasses. "After so many centuries, one tends to get continually sidetracked by the odd memory. He glanced with concern at the fighting vampires around them. Two of the Enforcers were dead and one nearly so. Unfortunately, so were all but two of those from Toronto's sister Community and most of the younger 'natives'. Janette was consoling a weeping Bridgette who was mourning over Ian's remains; Merlin was limpingas was Feliks. Zeus's thunderhad he not warned the youngster to watch his flank? It was basically down to eleven against one Enforcer at this end, with the evenly matched Lucius and Kurkan still dealing damage to each other out over the lake. What worried the Ancient philosopher was the question of what had happened to Nicholas and Joran. Alone, the former didn't stand a chance against the latter.

"Did anybody see where the High Councilor and de Brabant surfaced?" he asked.

A humanoid figure that was neither human nor vampire appeared beside Andrew before he'd finished voicing the inquiry.

"They're both still submerged." Adam looked with concern at Andrew's partially healed throat. "Man, that looks really nasty. Here, you better take this." A pearlescent-white crystal goblet appeared in his hand. Taking it, Andrew gratefully swallowed down the contents. He graced his friend with a smile after _carefully_ clearing his throat.

"Thanks, Adam. I feel much better." Andrew grinned at the watching audience, his neck looking whole once more. "Thanks, Monica, for the warningand thanks to you too, Aristotle. I hate to think what might have happened if you had not intervened."

"You mean... you would have..?" Monica's hand went to her throat.

Her friend gave her a sad smile. "Not willingly. I _was_ pretty hungry though."

"Wise is he who is aware of his limitations," Aristotle advised, "as well as the limitations of others." After trading introductions with the newcomer, he gestured pointedly a Jenny. "Andrew, after my fellows finish dispatching that last Enforcer... they're likely going to switch from one form of survival instinct to another. I hate to have to bring this up, but as you are aware, stress and wounds...?" He let the thought dangle.

"Exacerbate the Hunger," Andrew finished with a weary sigh. "I'll have to fly Monica and Jenny away from here."

"No!" Monica declared, upset at the thought of being separated from her friends again. "I'm now part of this, too, Andrew."

"And what about Uncle Nick?" Jenny piped up. "He might need us."

"Actually," Sam stated to them as he winked in amidst the group to gaze with concern out unto the lake, "the need to move them may have just become moot. J'ranor has found Nicholas."

"And…?" Tess asked as she also became visible to non-celestial eyes.

"The Father says that he is much disoriented from lack of blood and the cold: very near to a coma-like state."

Andrew stood up, preparing to fly. "I must help him."

"No."

The angel almost bared his fangs at his friend, but caught himself in time. "Why not? Nicholas needs my help!"

"Because, Andrew, J'ranor has positioned a guard of demons around himself and De Brabant. It would take the strength of Warriors to get through."

"Well, they _are_ here, aren't they?" Monica asked.

Sam nodded. "Everyone is here and ready. But there is nothing we can do for Nicholas unless he calls for celestial help."

An attentive Aristotle had been listening to them talk. Now he decided to speak up. "Excuse me, sir, but how can Nicholas ask for help if he's on the point of a coma?"

Sam frowned. "He can't."

"How fortuitous then... _for their side_," Aristotle replied with acidic sarcasm, "I do hope you all have some sort of a backup plan?"

"Yes," Adam coughed, keenly aware that the vampire was not impressed with their battle strategy and would be even more distressed by his next words. "But for it to work, first Nicholas must be possessed by the demon."

The eyes behind the glasses seemed to double in size for a moment. "Are you saying that in order to win... we may have to _lose_?"

"That's one way of putting it."

Aristotle shook his head as he observed, "I've heard that the ways of your God are mysterious. It seems the stories were not exaggerating."

At the bottom of Lake Ontario:

It was cold. So dark and cold, the nearly freezing temperature quickly stilling even the smallest attempts of his limbs to slow his descent. Worse, he could swear that the darkness was becoming alive around him just like in his nightmares. Twisting nebulas moving in and out and coiling around him.

"Nicholasnicholsnicholsnicholsnicholsnicholsnichols," the dark shapes seemed to be chanting together. He wished they would shut upthey were keeping him awake, and all he really wanted to do was sleep. Yes, sleep and not dream of anything at all. At least he wasn't moving downward anymore. Had he hit bottom? Did it matter? He was numb and tired and wanted to sleep.

The shapes apparently protested this desire because their chanting actually increased in tempo.

Very annoying.

Nnnooo, Nicholllasssawwakennn!

"Sleepy. Go away," he thought at the annoyance. All of these blathering voices were upsetting his inner beast as well. He could feel it was upset about something. Nicholas's fangs ached to descendto drive the voices away. But that would be such a bother. Too tiring.

Sssleeepy, yessss. Ssstiiill... you huunggerrr morrre?

Insidious, nagging chatterer!

However, Nicholas mentally frowned, i t did have a point. He _was_ hungry. But terribly sleepy too. He could always feed later after he'd rested for awhile. There were several bottles of cow's blood in his refrigerator he could avail himself of later after his nap.

Collldd, ssspooiled ssslloppp! Youurrre tooo huunggerrry fforrr sssuch offfal! Wee wannt tto ffeeed ffrrroom rrrich, ffoood!

Feed? He had to admit that that did sound good. Yes, his beast had been terribly hungry. Desperately so before the cold started numbing so much of the pain. Yet, to return to that pain's fullness even to quench it? It seemed counter productive. At any rate... There was something about this persistent voice in his ears that neither of his natures liked. Dangerous. And wrong. Wasn't it wrong for him to feed from anything other than animals? He was fairly certain of itbut his beast did not affirm the thought. It was just in need. And snarling about something.

Nicholas tried again to ignore the voices, but they wouldn't shut up. And they kept giving him mental pictures that did nothing so much as arouse his whole being. Needs, wants, desires long denied His fangs itched. The cold water was taking away the physical pain, but there were scary things in this darkness he did not like. And his family and friends were not here with him. He wanted Janette here to share his passion of being alive, Lacroix to chase away the phantoms and make his world secure, and Andrew to talk with because nobody talked _with_ him and understood like his friend understood him. Even his beast accepted Andrew for all he was not of its bloodline.

Damn!

He was cold. He was hungry. He was miserable He wanted to go home!

Iiit's colldd herrre. Wwwett. Clllammy collldd wwwet. Yyouu donnttt llike beiiing wwettt. Awwfull fffeelling. Wwant to beee drrrry. Annnd fffedd! Sssucking fflaavorrr..ssscarrlettt ecccttasssy on ourr tonggue! Yesss? Wwarrrrm... Niiicholllasss wwwannts iiit?

Oh, yes! To be warm! He wanted to feel warmth inside and not this dulling cold! To feel liquid heat flowing down into his center instead of annoying wetness without. His beast wanted this too: To feel _alive_ was what made immortality bearable!

But he couldn't move!

Nicholas growled deep in his throat with the frustration of his situation!

He needed to get up and feed! If only he wasn't so cold.

Lllet meee aaid yyouu. Joiin wwithh meeee, the voice suggested.

Nicholas felt his beast rumble with outrage. It had its host to hunt with, they wanted no other outside of its pack! Let this interloper get its own prey!

Havve I upsssett yyouu, Niicholllass. Howw cannnn yyouuu fffeedd ifff yyouuu cannot rrisssee? I wwilll takkke yyouu uup. I wwill helllp yyouuu. Nnnoo otthher cannn. Innn rrreturrnn yyoou wiilll fffeedd. Asss muuch orrr asss lliittle asss yyouu llike.

That was all? No demands?

Yyouuu ddo nnott trrrusst meee. Bbutt I carrre fforrr yyouu, Niicholllasss. I wwill nnot lllet yyouu ttakke morrre thann yyouu fffeell commffforrrtabllle wwith.

Well...okay, Nicholas agreed. As long as nobody was harmed, he guessed it would be all right to let the Vampire feed. Just a little, though. Just enough to stop the Hunger and go home. He so wanted to be home.

Fffeedd annnd beee ssstrrronnng. Fffor nnnowww, yyoourrr choiccce, the slithery voice reassured him.

After all, J'ranor smirked, he did not want to inhabit a weakened vessel. And the knight would be more likely to give in if he first awakened to full consciousness after having draining the body of someone he wished to protect. The resultant guilt would weaken his resolve as the victim's blood strengthened his body. He would not recover from that guilt so soon. J'ranor would not let him.

Not before the Night Child was his.

And then wouldn't those vampires be surprised when he revealed his true essence and joined with this one! Right before he used their precious Nicholas de Brabant to slaughter them all. The minion would do what the mighty Satan had failed to accomplish. He, J'ranor, would be the Murderer of all Life On Earth because he would have gained Dominion over this planet through this golden-haired child of the Hated One.

Oh, yesJ'ranor crowed as he wrapped his arms around de Brabant and rocketed skyward from the lake bed. Soon. Very, very, _very_ soon now.

He could hardly wait.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

No Review Answers today. Too tired to go searching for them  
(too busy praying this will actually show up this time).


	28. Sacrificial Offerings

Part 28: Sacrificial Offerings

"Look!" Monica's cry of alarm warned the others as some distance out the dark waters of Lake Ontario burst upwards like a fountain. After the sudden cascade fell back to its resting spot, the only thing to remain airborne was the dripping figure of Joran tightly clutching de Brabant to himself. The demon was flying towards the shore.

At his position of higher altitude, Lacroix also noticed their arrival and flung Kurkan northward as hard as he could before racing back in the demon's wake. His adversary was about to give chase as well when Kurkan thought better of it. The battle with Lucius had not gone as neatly as he had hopedthe Elder's fury had given him added strength and Kurkan could feel the numerous injuries he had sustained at the Roman's hands and teeth. Nor did he care to confront Joran again without the element of surprise working in his favor. No... a retreat might be the best alternative. He had enough strength to reach at least Niagara Falls if not Buffalo before dawn. From there he would fly to New York City and purchase a flight to Amsterdam and the Council Lair. Surely one of the ruling Ancient Elders there would be pleased enough with his news of Joran's treachery to grant the informer a position of some power?

Giving the Toronto cityscape one last look of regret, Kurkan set a course across the lake, already considering the best ways to ingratiate himself to a new mentor.

High on the blood of the slain Enforcers they'd finally managed to destroy, the victorious New World vampires gathered around J'ranor as he landed before them, their eyes a mixture of ruby and amber that left no doubt of their displeasure with the High Elder.

The Brabantian looked terribly pale against the dark charcoal of his shirt and he was shivering uncontrollably; soft whimpersun escaped from his mouth whenever the Councilor shifted position. Even those that had come solely for Lacroix's sake and did not particularly care for his unorthodox prodigy were angered, for the son of a city Elder did not deserve such mean treatment. But even more importantthey were not inclined to forgive the Third Council Lord for having _ordered their true deaths_.

"I say we stake him and leave him out for the sun to finish," Bridgette growled.

"Decapitation, he's too old for a regular staking," the more prudent Miklos advised, nursing a sore shoulder. The clavicle bone had snapped fairly early on from a lucky blow and was just now finishing its mending.

J'ranor glared balefully at them, but still refused to relinquish his hold on his prize. ""Ignorant lot! You don't know what you are dealing with," he warned them. No, they had no clue as to what power they were dealing with. However, he would gladly show them.

"Stop!"

A rush of air heralded the return of Lacroix. He landed close before J'ranor as he held out his arms in a gesture of truce. A truce, though, did not mean that the Roman was going to let Joran take his son, but he wanted witnesses that he'd tried to compromise with the Councillor first. Nobody needed the European hierarchy down on their case any more than could be helped.

"Joran you are outnumbered and there is nothing I would like more than to personally scatter your ashes to the wind," the Elder snarled in his anger. "You have plagued my existence since nearly the beginning. To say that I hate you would be like saying that the Iliad was a quaint bit of poetry: an understatement of immense proportions!" He paused to reign in his temper, then continued in a more stately manor. "However, I do not consider myself to be a fool. Even outnumbered, you make a formidable foe whose age, I sense, is greater than even Andrew's and my own. I am not certain of your defeat hereand I dislike battling where the outcome is unsure. You and I know that I have neither the power nor the connections to take you, Councilor. At least not quickly or decisively enough to safeguard that which is important to me." He let his gaze linger on Nicholas for a long moment, before staring at J'ranor with expressionless eyes. "Therefore...I offer you a deal. One that will save us both possible grief. Give me back my son and I will send you a gift every month for as long as both I and Nicholas exist."

The archdemon smirked, already knowing his answer, but curious as to what Lacroix was willing to give to buy him off. "And what sort of gift would that be?"

"A bottle of Nicholas' blood. Pure. Uncut with wine and brought to you by the fastest means I can procure."

J'ranor threw back his head and laughed. He almost regretted his decision to destroy all life on Earthsome of it could be quite amusing.

"An extravagant gift indeed! But a month? When I have rightful claim to _all_ of himnow?"

"Need I remind you," Lacroix seethed, "that there are multiple witnesses to Kurkan's accusation? I will command their silence if you keep yours." He leaned in even closer to vehemently declare, "We are even, Joran. Let this end."

"_Even_?" J'ranor snorted with a short laugh, "Hardly. However, I am finding this compromise idea of yours most amusing."

The Roman's eyes narrowed, sensing a trap. "Then you will accept it and leave us in peace?"

"Perhaps. It depends."

"On?"

"On whether Nicholas survives at all," Joran smiled, enjoying his taunting of the other. "Due to this unnecessary ruckus your mutiny has wrought, the one we are bargaining for is currently rather the worse for wear. He needs blood_fresh_ blood."

Lacroix gave an almost imperceptible nod of agreement. "As his sire, it is my duty to care for his needs. I will feed him my own."

"As will I," Janette seconded

"And I," chimed in Aristotle. "Between the three of us, young Nicholas will be fine."

"_Human_, blood," J'ranor qualified as he gazed down towards Jenny causing Monica to clutch the girl closer. "Give him one of the humanssay, that childand I will gladly loose him to you." Yes, the girl would be perfect! De Brabant felt humans had more worth than his one kind. And the death of the mortal child would strike him the hardest.

"Very well," Lacroix concurred. Normally, there was an unspoken rule against feeding from children, however he was feeling a bit desperate. After all, High Councilor Joran could decide not to give him back Nicholas, and then they would have to fight. And there was still the niggling worry that Joran was not what he seemed and was, in fact, not Joran at all but something worse. How did one fight a demon? That night with Dr. Vanderwal and the exorcism... Lucien had felt powerless for all his rage.

Monica wanted to scream as she and Jenny were seperated; Jenny was being pushed forward so that Lacroix could hypnotize her into a catatonic state. Looking very pleased with himself, J'ranor knelt down enough to hold the knight's head on the same level as the teenager's jugular. Surely, Monica thought, she wasn't expected to just watch the poor girl be murdered before her eyes? She glanced around, but although her angelic friends looked upset, none were moving a finger to stop the vampires. Her last hopethat Nicholas himself truly did love the girl and would stop this madnesswas dashed when he opened his eyes. All traces of blue were gone as Hunger-reddened orbs burned into Jenny's without showing any signs of recognition. He even growled impatiently as he struggled against J'ranor's arms to reach her neck.

"No!' Andrew cried out. "De Brabant will kill himself if he hurts Jenny! Choose another!"

J'ranor just grinned at him. "Oh, I think suicide is far from his mind just now, Andrew."

Hearing their banter, Lacroix frowned. The professed angel might well be right and Joran was giving in awfully easily. Then again it would be better that they not weaken their own side by feeding Nicholas from themselvesmuch as he longed to do so. Too, it had been so long since Nicholas had taken in his food as it was meant to be consumed. A feeding on pure human straight from an artery would do his child good.

But the girl? True, his son had been overly fond of the human's annoying sire, but... _damn_, Nicholas's penchant for making things more difficult than they had to be! Even when he _was_ succumbing to his true nature, the boy's conscience managed to complicate matters!

Lacriox looked again at Andrew, seeking confirmation and got it through the anguished glint in the angel's eyes.

"Wait!" the Elder smoothly pulled Jenny away from his protégé's reach. "The child i_s_ too young, Joran. Such a small body will not hold enough blood to satisfy my son in his current state. Perhaps the woman would be a better choice."

Andrew was nearing panic. Being the instrument of Jenny's death would destroy Nicholas' barely reclaimed mind, but he was not conscious enough to comprehend what was happening around him to fight the urge. Yet, Monicahe couldn't let that happen to his dear friend! No, she could not truly die like a human wouldshe was an angel, but she would be terribly traumatized by the experience. What was he to do!

_Evil cannot stand before My Light, Andrew. And the act of receiving is worth much more when the act is willingly returned. Blessed are those that share what they have. Remember that_.

Of course!

Purposefully, he flew over to take Monica's and Jenny's hands in each of his own.

"I have an idea. Turn him loose. Let Nicholas choose his own prey," he confidently challenged the vampires. De Brabant would choose Andrew, of that the Angel of Death was sure. Jehovah would not have reassured them that everything would be okay if that was not so. And the shared blood memories of their mental adventure together would bring Nicholas back to his sensesback to the Light. He would pray for God's protection and J'ranor would be driven away by the Warrior Angels. This was what the Father had meant by those parting words!

All around, the surviving vampires murmured their agreement: Let the Brabantian feed and go home with his family so that they could do likewise. What with all of the fear and anxiety around them, they were getting hungry again as well.

"You sure my Angel Boy knows what he's doing?" Tess fretted as she stood at the sidelines with the invisible angel contingent. Her boy did have a tendency at times to jump ahead of himself.

"Yes," Sam smiled, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "I think he knows exactly what he is doing."

J'ranor however, was not as thrilled by Andrew's proposal.

"I will not allow this!"

"Why not?" Aristotle asked him. "This idea satisfies everyone." His eyes glared at the Councilor. "What possible reason could you have to object?"

"You will not challenge me on this!" J'ranor hissed in warning, his eyes riveted on Andrew.

"Then we shall go back to challenging your right to dictate to us!" Merlin cried and heard the others voice their agreement. Standing closer to the demon than most of the others, a Montreal Ancient who at one time rode with Ghengis Khan screamed in defiance as he burst through the crowd to reach Joran, sending both Andrew and Lacroix alike stumbling aside and making the angel losing his grip on Monica and Jenny. With a powerful thrust from a concealed dirk, the Mongolian expertly severed the High Councilor's neck from his shoulder's, tumbling to land triumphantly on his feet behind the mortally wounded body. "And _now_ we can go home!" the Eastern vampire grinned at his fellows as he held up his weapon and waited to receive their praise for so neatly dispatching their foe.

He didn't get it.

Rather than cheer the smiling Mongolian, all eyes were fixed on the body lying in two parts on the ground. A body that was not gushing out blood...but something else.

A pitch black ooze was bubbling from the Councilor's bodyno... it was _becoming_ the body! Midnight syrup thicker than molasses and as darkly iridescent as machine oil. And there was a lot of it. Plant life and soil itself seemed to wither at its touch as the substance began to gather in on itself, only continuing to spread outward in one particular direction...

Quickly, Lacroix yanked Nicholas away from it, but not before a bit of the substance managed to touch the knight's hand. Screaming in pain from the slight contact, De Brabant found the energy to leap away. He landed nearly on top of Jenny, who was still held under Lacroix's hypnotic spell. Growling, the Hunger-filled Vampire within Nicholas licked at the girl's neck, sensing the warm blood flowing just beyond his tongue. For a moment it looked uncertainthat there was something not quite right about taking this preyand his eyes dimmed to a cautious amber; yet the Hunger demanded it feed, so it blocked out the uncertainty, bared its fangs, and rearing back its head in preparation for the strike.

Oh, Father! Monica cried out in her mind, I've got to stop this! He doesn't know what he's doing!

Not waiting to see where Andrew was, Monica summoned all her courage and hurled herself at Nicholas, throwing him off balance. They tumbled over and over together, Nicholas landing on the bottom. For a moment his startled face looked up at her with frightened blue eyes, shaking fingers skittering down the sides of her face.

"Help me... please... I don't want to... so hungry... "

Then the stormy blue became rapidly overrun with scarlet flecks. Still he didn't move to knock her off, and Monica realized he had no energy left to even that.

Nicholas de Brabant was absolutely, positively exhausted, having used everything he had left to voice his plea for her assistance instead of just biting into her and taking her energy as his own...instead of killing her.

Still... he knew she was an angelso he would have realized that she could not really _die_ from exsanguination, right?

But then hadn't he purposely touched herin a tentative way... as if... as if he hadn't been sure at that precise moment whether feeling her skin would burn him or not.

Why had he gone ahead and touched her thenf he might be injured by the act?

Because he's scared, Monica told herself, scared for himself and of himself and what he's been asked to do and he wanted the comfort of touch before the demon takes him and possibly wins and destroys everything...

And that meant it wasn't a trick by this vampire to deceive her. De Brabant truly cared for people just as much as she did. He risked getting hurt and suffering pain for her sake and Jenny'sall while thinking he was going to Hell.

Well, wasn't that what he was being asked to do, really? Submit to Hell so that God's side could win?

Knowing that she didn't have much time before someone pulled them apart, Monica deliberately laid her neck upon his mouth.

"Take what you need."

For an endless moment nothing happened and she began to wonder if Nicholas was truly too weak any more to even bite her. But then there came a sharp pain as two ivory daggers pierced her skina split second onlyswiftly followed by the sensation of something being pulled from within, slowly at first...and then faster and faster until she felt the edges of her vision start to fade into darkness...

tbc

**Review Responses:**

**Wanderer D: **If it turns out at the end that I managed to surprise you after all, please let me know what direction you thought the battle was going to take. I'm one of those people who likes to daydream alternative endings for stories she's read, so different ideas intrigue me even if only for mental fun. :-)

A word to Forever Knight fans: Yes, I know that FK never delved into the hierarchy of the vampire world other than that their were Enforcers with oversized fangs who acted as policemen and that older usually meant more powerful. But it's sort of an fkfanfic unwritten legacy that there are city Elders and a council or some sort somewhere of really ancient vampirs who tell the Enforcers what to do. Somebody had to make up those rules of conduct:-P

Sorry taking so long, but my employer and family honestly don't give a wit on whether I get these out or not.


	29. Between Heaven and Hell

Part 29: Between Heaven And Hell

In A Corner Pocket Of Heaven

It was Light.

Not, 'there _was _light', no, for that did not come anywhere close to describing it. It was _Light_---and brilliantly so: a comforting presence resplendent with flashes of rainbow prisms within that sparkled with an air of Being.

Daylight was an incredibly poor substitute for this.

I'm home, Monica thought contentedly. I'm home with the Father.

_Safe from the ills of Earth._

It was such a nice feeling to be blanketed in His caring love, hearing the music of the Heavenly Choir continuously singing His praises in the background, the soothing nearly drowning out the soft whimpers at her feet.

Monica cracked open her eyes.

Soft whimpers at her feet?

Looking down, Monica gave a startled cry at the sight of not one but---two!---Nicholas de Brabants huddled beside her; one was very mortal in appearance, but the other's visage held somewhat more... feral... with its elongated fangs and golden eyes. Not to mention wearing homespun clothes that looked like they'd been made for a Medieval re-enactment.

They were clinging to each other, the former rocking and rubbing the back of the latter who now had his face half buried against the gray shirt, shaking like a leaf. In contrast the 'civilized' version was casting quick glances of wonder about him even as he tried to comfort his moaning twin.

"What happened to you?" Monica asked in utter bewilderment. Never mind that De Brabant seemed to have cloned himself---what was a vampire doing in _Heaven_!

The stormy blue eyes raised to consider her shocked face looked just as confused.

"I... don't know. You're supposed to be the enlightened angel," Nicholas lamely joked in reply, "I'm just the hapless semi-immortal." As far as De Brabant was concerned, there was a far more pertinent question to be answered. Pointing out the amber glow that surrounded her, then asked in naked awe, "Where are we?"

"Near the Presence of God." Monica answered as if that was obvious. Couldn't he feel the wash of his Love? It was almost as strong as it was within the Presence itself: akin in the mortal world to standing in the inner Temple as opposed to being actually within the Holy of Holies. But no, if anything his expression became even more bewildered, the cobalt eyes turning veiled with apprehension.

"God?"

Nicholas felt his breathing quicken. Was this his time of Judgment then? Would he be thrown to Limbo or consigned to the Fire? If this was Heaven then where were all the other angels and the saints to bear witness of his condemnation? Maybe there was some sort of queue to be cast into the Fire and he had to wait his turn?

Instead of answering, Monica gestured at the one who was making the whimpering noises. "Who is that?"

Distracted by thoughts of his imminent demise, Nicholas unconsciously tightened his grip on his doppelgänger in agitation. Sensing the other's nervousness, his twin gripped back just as hard. It was a moment before the knight realized she'd asked him a question. He gave her a shamefaced smile as he stuttered out, "Uh... he's me. My Vampire."

"Your... vampire?" the angel asked, now feeling just as confused as the Brabantian. guy _was_ a vampire. Therefore, how could he _have_ a vampire?

Nicholas shrugged. He wasn't sure that he understood it himself, but had come to the conclusion that it was much easier to just accept that he was two separate entities and let it go at that. "Yeah... I dreamed of meeting it---him---like this not long ago." He glanced around at the beautiful whiteness that was somehow more, frowning with the contrasting sentiments of disappointment and not a little relief. "Which means that this is just another dream I suppose."

Monica didn't understand him. This was Heaven---couldn't he feel it---the waves of energy? This was so much more _real _than anything on Earth. Well, it was a bit more vacant and quiet than usual, but then the angel reasoned the Father must have wanted to give them someplace more quiet in which to talk.

"Do you wish it to be?"

Nicholas considered the one he was holding for awhile before answering, "I don't know. It's so amazing here: the music, the light. It feels good and wholesome. I'd gladly stay forever... except... that can't be, can it? Andrew says I'm forgiven---but that doesn't mean I'm accepted." He indicated the one holding him in a death grip. Monica could see that where the knight had calmed down, his vampire had not. "And it's scaring him to be here."

"You mean your vampire half?" Monica looked uneasily at his 'twin', deciding to ignore his question for now until the Father gave her direction or answered it Himself.

She studied the hyperventilating Vampire from where she stood; the 'wild child' mirror of De Brabant did not seem so terrible a monster just now as he had before. But she wasn't really comfortable with the idea of feeling sympathy for an unrepentant killer of humans which she knew it must be. Her being cried for the hurts of humans. This creature was part of what hurt them.

"Mmhmm..." Nicholas murmured, enjoying the music of the angels for another moment before he explained, "The Vampire is nocturnal for a reason. The nucleotide---the main component in its own blood makeup---is highly agitated by certain wave lengths in the sun's rays. When the two meet, friction is created causing the blood to boil and then burst into flames. Or, at least, that's how Dr. Lambert once explained it to me as the 'scientific' theory." His smile turned rueful. "All I knew after waking up that night in 1228 was that suddenly being hit with sunlight was pure agony."

"Yes, but," Monica knelt down with them as her inborn empathic nature warred with her less charitable impulses. She really couldn't stand to see another hurting; not even this... predator. "It isn't burning up now. Is it in pain?" She wished it would stop whimpering like that.

De Brabant closed his eyes for a moment as if tuning out the heavenly choir in or to listen to some inner voice. He answered with a puzzled frown. "No…no, not exactly; this light is not damaging---and I can't figure out why its not, but its rather blinding to a being whose sight was designed for the darkness of night----a lot more brilliant than he's used to. You see, Lady Angel, for centuries, the only illumination we had come from the heavens and from fire. Electricity and the light bulb are fairly new inventions. To me, their widespread use seems to have started just yesterday, and fluorescent bulbs and halogen lights...?" His voice broke into a woeful chuckle. "Sometimes I still get a panicky feeling from him when entering a room. He thinks its daylight and the fact that he's not burning only adds to his fear and confusion."

Opening his eyes, Nicholas caught Monica with her hand hovering uncertainly just inches above the Vampire's head.

"Go ahead and touch him, Lady Angel, if you wish. He won't bite except in self-defense or hunger---which thanks to you has faded since we arrived---and you are not a threat." Blue eyes glistened with emotion. "You helped me."

Monica almost snatched her hand away---she had not even realized what she had been about to do before he had spoken. But Nicholas's reassurances and gratitude seemed genuine enough.

Hesitantly, Monica let her fingers brush against the golden hair. It felt very silky. When the being didn't turn and attack her, she grew bolder and turned the touch into actual strokes, smoothing the rampant mass of wavy curls. In response the heart-rending whimpering morphed into a pleasant rumbling similar to that of a contented lion. Fingers clutching onto the mortal-like Nicholas eased their death grip as the Vampire relaxed under their combined caresses.

"Why... it's like big cat," Monica giggled, and then let out a frightened yelp when golden orbs and white fangs suddenly loomed before her. She hadn't even _seen_ it move to twist around and face her---it had changed position so quickly!

"Brabant!" she squealed as the Vampire's mouth opened wider, fearing she was about to be bitten despite what Nicholas had said.

"It's okay---" she heard the 'human' say just before a cold tongue licked her cheek. Then the face was gone as Nicholas pulled the Vampire back and began roughly rubbing its chest and belly until it turned its full attention on him. The distraction worked; it happily switched the use of its moist appendage to working on its host's exposed skin.

"He didn't mean to scare you... he just realized that you're the giver of our last meal," Nicholas explained with an expression that seemed stuck between apologetic and laughing. "I guess you smell different now than you did before or he would have recognized you instantly. Congratulations... you've just become part of our territory." The look of apology won out as he saw her face fall into dismay. "I hope you don't mind, Lady Angel---because frankly, he becomes rather fixated on things like that. Would you like me to move farther away? I'll leave you alone entirely if you wish..." Nicholas looked about again as he started to get up, "though I fear I don't know my way around here."

Now Monica felt guilty. He had behaved like a gentleman and she..? She was being rude.

Taking his wrist she urged De Brabant to sit back down.

"No---don't go. And please call me Monica."

"Thank you, I will," he smiled---glad that he was allowed to stay by the only familiar part of this strange dream if that was what it was---"if you will call me Nicholas or Nick. We're hardly strangers now, are we? I mean, after you've shared..." blushing a little, he ducked his head. Why did he have to go remind her of that? She probably wanted to forget that he had bitten her.

"Um, alright," Monica said, then giggled as the whole ridiculousness of the situation struck her. She had just befriended a charmingly shy 800-year old medieval knight who was metaphysically joined with an oversized humanoid cat---which had just proclaimed her as part of its personal 'stuff'. What would Tess say to _that_? And Andrew---? Oh, that Angel of Death was not going to stop teasing her about this for a long time once he found out. She could already picture the twinkle in his eyes as he got started on her. Dear Andrew. Father, how she missed their working together. Maybe their next assignment would not require that they work so much in separate locations.

"Well, Nick, I suppose I can live with being considered 'territory' just as long as your other half doesn't designate me as a scratching post."

The musical giggles that sprung from the human and case working angel blended with the singing of the Heavenly Choir.

And the Father smiled.

While back on Earth...

"Monica!" Andrew gasped as he saw her go limp with de Brabant's fangs still fixed to her throat.

No, Andrew. Do not go to her now. Pay attention to your surroundings.

But, Father, Andrew silently cried within, not wanting to disobey, yet needing to help his friend. She's hurt!

_Peace, my Angel---she is with Me._

Andrew wanted to ask more, but the animated oil slick that was the true form of 'Joran' was starting to rise upwards and he could feel the vampires around him beginning to panic as it reached a height of fifteen feet, its arms and head now taking a vaguely manlike form as they separated from the pillar-like 'torso'.

"Mother of All..." Janette voiced for the whole, horror-struck group. "What _is_ that!"

In the Spiritual

The Vampire stiffened. Wrenching itself from its host's touch as he talked with the claimed female, it leapt up, head cocked to listen. A deep growl issued from its throat.

Threat! Not here...but somewhere..

Rumbling, he shook his head in frustration. The threat was Somewhere-Not-Here where the pack was in dire jeopardy.

"What's wrong?" Monica asked, nervously recoiling from the fearsome visage insistently nudging her and Nicholas closer together as it circled around them, "Why is he angry?"

Taking a second to commune with his symbiotic 'other half', the knight looked troubled as he whispered, "I'm in danger."

"Not here," Monica assured him.

"No," he agreed. "Not here. It's coming from outside of where we are." A startled expression crossed the Crusader's face, but when it had passed, he looked a little frightened, yet resolved. "Monica... I don't understand how I know... but I have to go back now.. I have to face J'ranor. Please pray for m---?"

Monica suddenly found herself standing alone.

"Father!" she called out in alarm.

Hush, Monica. All is well.

"But, he's gone to face that archdemon!" His angel fretted. "How can he battle that thing alone by himself?"

The Father chuckled at her with affection.

_But, my precious child, thanks to your act of compassion Nicholas will not BE alone._

Huh?

Monica listened as the Father explained to her the vital role she had unwittingly taken when she had offered herself to the Vampire.

On Earth

"That's J'ranor. An archdemon of Satan's," Andrew explained, his throat feeling dry. He moved to stand over de Brabant who was now sitting up and blinking rather vacantly at Monica's unmoving form as if he was wondering how she had happened to come into his lap. Behind him, the Angel of Death could feel the presence of the Warrior Angels backing up his position.

"Don't touch him, J'ranor!" Andrew warned the towering demon. "You can't have him!"

The sibilant voice of the demon laughed as the dark mass vibrated with evil mirth.

"SSSILY ANGEL... YOU STILL THINK YOU AND YOUR KIND CAN SSSTOP ME."

"Nicholas will stop you."

The harsh laughter boomed like thunder.

"SIR NICHOLAS DE BRABANT ISS MY NEW SSSERVANT! HE HASSS CHOSSSEN TO MURDER AGAIN. CAN YOU SSSENSSE HISSS SSSTRENGTH, ANDREW? HUMAN BLOOD IS RESSTORING HISSS BODY. _ONE_ HUMAN WOMAN'SSS LIFE HAS RESTORED THE VAMPIRE'S VIGOR. CAN YOU IMAGINE WHAT A POWER WILL ARISSSE AFTER IT HASSS GLUTTED ON MORE? BY HIS OWN CHOICE DE BRANT HASSS REJECTED YOUR GOD A SECOND TIME. AND NOW HE BELONGSSS TO ME."

J'ranor's arm elongated into a whip-like tendril which he used to wrap around the strangely complacent De Brabant's waist. The tendril then rapidly shortened in length, drawing the knight with it until he was being held snug against the dark mass.

"SSSEEE, ANGEL?" the demon chuckled, sending the tip of the tendril around to ruffle the curled hair and caress the vampire's neck. HE NO LONGER RECOILS FROM MY TOUCH. NICHOLAS DE BRABANT HAS BECOME ONE WITH THE DARKNESS. NOW HE WILL BECOME ONE WITH _MEEE_."

"Nicholas!" Lacroix cried. "Fight it, mon fils!"

Another tendril lashed out, sending the Elder crashing back into the others.

"BE QUIET, LUCIUS---WE WILL GET BACK TO YOU SOON ENOUGH."

J'ranor lifted Nicholas to 'eye level'.

"I SSSEE YOU ARE NOT CONCERNED ABOUT LUCIUSSS WELFARE, NICHOLASSS. PERHAPSSS YOU REALIZE HE WASSS NEVER WORTHY OF YOUR FEALTY. NOT LIKE ME. A FULFILLING MEAL YOUR FORMER MASSSTER WILL MAKE, WON'T HE MY YOUNG FRIEND?" J'ranor cooed to the vampire it held.

"BUT BEFORE YOUR FEAST I WILL ALLOW YOU TO UNLEASSSH UPON HIM A THOUSSSAND FOLD OF THE TORTURESSS HE VISSSITED ON YOU BEFORE YOU DRAIN HIM TO A DRIED-OUT HUSSSK. YOU'LL LIKE THAT ONCE I LET THE BEASSST WITHIN YOU FREELY RELISSSH ITS TRUE NATURE. ITSSS BEEN TOO LONG TIME, VAMPIRE, HASSSN'T IT----SINCE YOU LET THOSSSE ANNOYING MORTAL RESTRAINTSSS BE LAID UPON YOU? AND AFTER THAT EVERY NIGHT AND DAY CHILD WHO EVER LAUGHED AT YOUR DESIRESSS SSSHALL SSSUFFER YOUR REVENGE." J'ranor enthusiastically vowed, neatly side-stepping the fact that he had been disgusted by the knight's desire for humanity as well. "AND JANETTE--- OF COURSE, YOU WANT REVENGE FOR HER BETRAYALSSS TOO?"

De Brabant silently looked down at the vampires in question and the angel below with ruby-colored eyes.

Andrew heard Janette gasp in dismay as the expressionless face of her brother lingered on her. Lacroix looked downright ashen as he remembered the things he had resorted to to try to keep his son in line. Surely Nicholas wasn't truly considering the demon's words? His son wasn't still angry at him. Their past misunderstandings were forgiven! Water under the bridge.

Weren't they?

"Sam..?" Andrew asked, turning questioning eyes to his friend.

His old supervisor looked worried.

"I don't know. It depends on whether he has truly forgiven them or not."

But Nicholas' response to his captor's offers chilled them all.

Wordlessly, the vampire bent his head to give a single lick to the tendril holding him, his half-golden, half-scarlet eyes unwavering from their consideration of the massive 'face' before him as his lips formed into a sly smile.

J'ranor was ecstatic as he took the gesture for that of 'kissing the ring': a medieval form of giving allegiance to a superior.

"YESSS! YESSS, NICHOLASSS! AT LASSST YOU UNDERSSSTAND WHAT OUR JOINING TOGETHER CAN OFFER YOU! AND I PROMISSSE THAT THEIR DEATHSSS SHALL BE ASSS PAINFUL ASSS WE CAN MAKE THEM!"

The oily mass of the demon condensed until the 'head' and 'torso' were the same size as Joran had been, suspended in the air by an ebony column of goo reaching up from the ground. More 'limb's sprouted from the mass to grasp the knight's body in a black network of strands from shoulders down. Nicholas did not protest the tight hug nor the actions of the upper protrusions as they ripped the abused cloth of the poet's shirt to expose his neck even more than it was already. Meanwhile, a simple 'mouth' was forming in the demon's 'face', a large pit, really, but with two long canines jutting downwards from the roof. They quickly hardened to the consistency of granite. Nicholas shuddered as their slightly rough texture was rubbed along the outer surface of his throat.

"YOU LIKE THAT, MY SSSERVANT?" J'ranor chuckled as he scraped under Nicholas other ear, hearing the knight moan aloud. "FEEL THE FIRSSST INKLING OF THE PLEASSSURE I CAN GIVE YOU? AFTER THE BLOODKISSSS...WE SSSHALL BE ASSS ONE ENTITY---DINING ON BOTH WARM AND COLD BLOOD AND RESTING ON OUR ENEMY'S BONES. INSSSEPERABLE AND POWERFUL BEYOND BELIEF!"

The ebony fangs pierced alabaster skin then viciously dug in to tear and tug at the wounds until the vampire's blood squirted out into the hollowed gullet of the demon in a virtual torrent of cold liquid. Eager to complete the transfer, the body of J'ranor unhesitatingly soaked it up in preparation to pour the fused properties back into de Brabant's body where they would be accepted by the Vampire physiology as part of itself: an unholy triune mutation of Human, Vampire, and Demon essences.

But it wasn't.

Too late, J'ranor realized something was wrong. And why. If not how.

...and he shuddered from top to bottom.

"TTTTTRRRRRRIIIIIICCCCCCKKKKKKKEEEEEDDDDDD!" the demon screamed so loudly vampires and human alike were momentarily deafened by the roar.

"TRRIIIICCCKKKEEEEDDD!" J'ranor shrieked again, glaring malevolently at the contingent of angels who were moving forward as he convulsed in agony. He spotted Andrew and cursed, wishing he could tear the Angel of Death apart with just his will. "HOW! YOU DID NOT SSSHARE!"

But the angel looked just as confused until comprehension dawned and he grinned like a Chesire cat. Between all his anxiety about his friends and this confrontation, he had completely forgotten. And before he could voice it---the solution to the puzzle---she was there, happily kissing him on the cheek and hugging his arm before turning to J'ranor.

"But _I_ did," Monica modestly informed the ailing demon.

"YOU---YOU WERE AN ANGEL!" J'ranor hissed in horrified realization of his own stupidity. How had he not seen it! The vampire in his grasp had fed from an angel of God! He hadn't even thought to question the frightened mortal's pedigree; she had seemed just a tag-a-long to the kid---and now he was paying for that oversight. The blood he had consumed so greedily---the Light he had unthinkingly taken within---was destroying him as his darkness tried to recoil from it's presence---and could not.

But he would not go alone!

He would _NOT_ go alone!

"ATTACK AND DESTROY!"

De Brabant screamed as the wracked form of J'ranor tightened around him, threatening to bury him within the oily darkness while simultaneously seeking to shred him to pieces. Dark forms arising from the lake rose up shrieking into the air, shadow swords held at the ready.

At the same time the Warrior Angels rose up to meet them, their own swords of Light flashing as they blocked the dark angels' path to the vampires.

"DEMONS," the leading Warrior thundered at the foul spirits, "YOU ARE GUILTY OF BREAKING THE COVENANT BETWEEN JEHOVAH AND CAIN! WILL YOU ACCEPT THE PRICE!

Not surprisingly the demons answered that with their swords. The sounds and sights of battle quickly filled the air.

Back on the ground, the Elder of Toronto barely acknowledged the fighting above him as he launched himself into the air. "Nicholas!" Lacroix grabbed hold of his son's arms---even resorting to biting at the wiry, cable-like strands cutting into his child, but was unable to pull him from the contracting web work that was fast becoming even slicker with de Brabant's blood. Frantic, he flew back down to the only 'angel' not already preoccupied and grabbed him by the coat back, unmindful of the blistering burns such contact was creating on his hands. Locking eyes with Adam he pleaded, "Help him. I'll do anything you request of me. But in the name of the God you serve---save my son!"

"Okay, sure man.. um..I mean... Can you get me up to---whOAAH!"

Adam took a deep breath to steady his nerves as he suddenly found himself soaring towards what remained of J'ranor courtesy of the vampire holding onto the back of his jacket.

The archdemon was really in a bad way---practically disintegrating before their eyes, but out of what must have been pure vindictiveness had kept the strands around the knight from decaying at the same rate as the rest of him. At this rate, by the time the Light was through, J'ranor would not be the only one rendered into multiple particles!

"Can you keep me airborne for a minute, Lucius?" Adam asked.

"Yes," the Ancient hissed painfully,but adding, "As long as I still have hands to do so."

Adam nodded his understanding as he laid his own palms on the ebony strands and began to pray. The fact that the webbing was now so deeply embedded in De Brabant that he couldn't touch them without touching the other vampire as well just couldn't be helped, but he _hoped_ that Nicholas was now immune to the touch of Light---hadn't he carried Monica's blood within himself? Contact made---and his own skin burning at the awful touch with J'ranor's darkness---the Angel of Death broke into prayer. Both the demon and Lacroix recoiled from him as the words left his mouth, but fortunately, the Ancient recovered before they had fallen more than a few inches.

"Watch it, man!" Sam yelped as he was caught from his fall.

"Keep going!" the Elder hissed back at him.

Again Adam prayed and this time managed to maintain contact. Slowly the strands broke up as the power of God's Word unraveled them further, until Nicholas fell backwards. Adam caught him in his arms. Instantly, they were dragged backwards through the air as Lacroix flew them over to relative safety on the other side of the island; away far the fleeing dark angels and pursuing Warriors, away from the stinking mass of steaming oil that had once comprised an archdemon.

Lacroix hurriedly inspected his child as the rest of the non-Warrior angels gathered around, confused and shell-shocked vampires following in their wake while giving them plenty of room.

Except for Aristotle and Janette: the first having had some advanced warning of what was coming, and Janette too anxious to reach her sibling's side to worry about just who and what these alien beings had to do with her family.

The pretty vampiress kissed her brother's forehead---about the only part of him that did not look as if had come against repeated strikes with a metal-tipped cat-o'-nine-tails.

"Oh, Nichola, I knew you would not betray us."

Giving her a tired pat on the hand, Nicholas eye's settled on Andrew who was standing ramrod straight.

He had done his duty. Suffered the horror of J'ranor's touch as he'd play acted the biggest role of his life. Erika, the vampiress he had once worked with on the stage, would have been proud of his performance---she had loved tragic melodrama. And it wasn't even over yet.

"Are you going to escort me to my new home, Andrew?" he asked the Angel of Death in a raspy voice.

"What?" Monica gasped turning to look at his friend, "Andrew!" Surely, De Brabant was not asking..?

"Nicholas.. mon fils," Lacroix said as he rested the knight's head in his lap, "the fight is over---you've won, my son. Now, you're going home with Janette and myself to rest and recover amongst friends as befits a conquering soldier."

"No, father..." Nicholas gently objected to Lacroix's words.

"Nonsense. I will carry you back myself."

"You don't understand... I'm dying."


	30. That Have Need Of Healing

A/N: First immensely busy and then work-related spell of depression resulted in very late update. On the plus side, this s almost done: two more parts after this.

Part 30: That Had Need Of Healing

"No--you will _not_ die," Lacroix voiced the command first to his son, then at these angels he had let near his child.

Damn the universe for trying to deny him at every turn; what he had feared had become reality----they wanted to take his Nicholas away from him!

"You can't have him," Lacroix glared at Andrew as if the angel was the source of all his woes, "I forbid it. I won't let you have him." He spared a wary glance at Adam hoping the other had forgotten the hasty promise he had made while J'ranor had been destroying his son.

"Lucius..." Andrew began, hating to have to do this to him---to them---but it was not his decision to make. How to get the old strategist to understand that angels had no right to say yay or nay on who died and when? He began again with the air of one sent by royalty. "General, I must respectfully request the company of your son, Sir Nicholas de Brabant, to be escorted into the presence of His Most High, Jehovah, Lord of All."

"Then you will take me with you," the Elder quietly but forcefully demanded.

The angel blinked. Surely he wasn't serious?

"Lucius, I can't do that. I was only told to bring De Brabant. Besides... the Light of Heaven would--"

"I will bear it," Lacroix asserted, "If my son can bear your... heaven... then so can I. I am his master and sire. You cannot make decisions about his future without my consent."

"Lacroix, please.. you really can't--" Nicholas tried to intervene.

"Be silent, Nicholas!" Lacroix sternly rebuked him, reddened eyes never leaving the blond Angel of Death as if he was afraid the celestial being would snatch up his son the instant he let his guard down. "This is between Andrew and myself."

Hello! Nicholas wished then he had more energy if only because he wanted to scream aloud: _And this has nothing to do with me!_ Did his sire really believe he could take on the power of Heaven and win? But a curious lassitude creeping over him kept Nicholas' own temper from breaking out. He glanced at Aristotle and Merlin, Janette, Feliks and the others---centuries-old friends as well as new acquaintances not seen before this battle. They were upset and shaken, yet fixed upon the Elder as if he was their last hope.

Their only hope.

Understandable, Nicholas realized, as the vampires' imagined supremacy in the cycle of things had just been blown sky high. Now they knew they were not the 'biggest kids on the block' and that knowledge was frightening; as disquieting as when each realized for the first time that the recruitment spiel they'd accepted of 'forever' and 'invincibility' was a lie: that under the right circumstance death came even to their kind. But, this was a far worse shaking of their sense of security, he knew, and Nicholas could see the desperation in their eyes that Lacroix _would_ somehow prevail, that they were safe from this unseen threat of the spirit world. Did they honestly think that they had defeated J'ranor themselves? That _he_ and Lacroix had managed the battle without divine aid?

No... his friends were not stupid. But they clearly wantedto believe it. And in wanting, would make it so if only in their own minds.

_Yes, Nicholas, they will forget if allowed to._

"What?" Nicholas asked, wondering who had spoken. He wished his eyelids hadn't suddenly grown so terribly heavy that he couldn't seem to raise them. The speaker had sounded very familiar. But oblivion beckoned and he so needed answer it's call.

Then Andrew was there before him in a white suit, so brilliant with Light that he couldn't see anything else---which was funny as Nicholas didn't remember having managed to open his eyes. Where was Lacroix? Had his sire given up his claim on his person? That was not like the General at all. Somehow, he felt perversely disappointed in at the thought that his father would give up. For centuries, Lacroix had been like a fixture in his life---often an unwanted fixture, but there nonetheless.

His friend was smiling down at him, offering a hand up. "Come, Nicholas... It's time to go."

Yes. It was long past time for him to go and receive Judgment. Without hesitation, he took the hand and stood up. "I'm ready."

(section break)

It was extraordinarily beautiful this mountain valley they were walking in.

Okay, so it had been awhile since he had had the pleasure of appreciating the glory of colors under the sun during a leisurely stroll, but this surpassed anything in his memory. Everything was so.. so... real. The flowers were positively exquisite. Stopping, Nicholas paused to touch a delicate petal, smiling when it remained unbruised by his touch. Wouldn't Feliks just die to see this place?

The thought disturbed the peaceful feeling that had blanketed him since he'd taking Andrew's hand.

Feliks _would_ have to die to see this. But in dying, would the horticulturist be allowed here? Twist did not go out of his way to murder and pillage, true... but he was still a vampire who willingly indulged in human blood---as did all of his non-human friends. Where would they go when they died? For---claims of immortality not withstanding---everything _did_ eventually die.

Sensing the change in his companion's aura, the Angel of Death paused. "Nicholas?" Andrew asked, concern evident on the angel's mild features, "What is it?"

"Nothing," the Crusader automatically replied—-then seemed to belatedly realize that he'd spoken a lie and where he was so swiftly amended: "I mean, I was just thinking." He set his gaze to the flowers, not wanting to meet Andrew's eyes. What good would it do to share his worries when there was nothing to be done about anything. He was dead and awaiting judgment as a sinner.

"Anything you wished to share?"

Loud cries of delight brought his attention up from the bed of irises. People were running through the grass towards them, hailing the knight by every imaginable dialect and version of 'Nicholas' that he'd ever heard his name spoken with. For a moment De Brabant felt a twinge of panic---recalling the time he had visited a 'haunted house' during a police case and been chased off the premises by the vision of a horde of angry ghosts wanting his demise. Were the good denizens of Heaven taking exception to his tainted presence here?

Andrew couldn't help but laugh at the look of dismay on his friend's face, grabbing his arm before the knight could bolt away from the descending mob. "No, Nicholas," he grinned reassuringly, "those are the people you've helped over the centuries."

"But...?" De Brabant gulped. Surely there had been some mistake? Yes, he had helped a few people as he'd striven to atone for his past evil; however, this... _crowd_?

No. It was a mistake. They thought he was someone else. And yet as Nicholas looked upon each face as they cheerfully greeted him with enthusiastic hugs and slaps on the back---he did recall each one and the circumstances under which they had met.

A light touch to his cheek made him turn.

"My lord husband."

Alyssa!

The doll-like woman he had once taken for a wife kissed him, ignoring his confusion. Nicholas caught her hands in his.

"But Alyssa.. I _murdered_ you," he felt compelled to remind her. "I took your life! How can you be happy to see me?"

"Oh, Nicholas--you didn't know?" She tenderly kissed him again. "Before you sought my hand, my father was going to betroth me to one of the powerful brutes who would have seen and treated me as merely a means to get heirs. I would have lived a harsh life under them. True, we only had a short time together, but you always saw me as something precious to be cherished for my own sake and not what I could give you by way of land or sons. That was worth more than years of life."

And so it went. Each had a story of how he had affected their lives either directly or indirectly. Nicholas was stunned. In the throes of his guilt, he hadn't realized he'd been making much of an impact on the mortals---at least, not in a good way. Certainly not in those years before he'd started feeding only on animal blood. And yet there, too, were a scattering of people who fondly remembered some kind act of his during his personal 'Dark Age'.

"Hey, pard!" a short, dark-haired man enthusiastically exclaimed as he wrapped Nicholas in a bear hug.

"Schanke!" Nicholas gasped, barely recognizing his old detective partner. Not only was he much slimmer than when they had worked together, but the man sported a full head of hair! He ruffled the fully covered pate, then with an amazed look pronounced: "Wow, Don---you look _good._"

Donald G. Schanke grinned like a maniac as he stood up straight to show off his svelte form. "Yeah---ain't it great? This Paradise thing really agrees with my waistline. Not to mention my hairline. I can't wait until Myra sees me." He chuckled, smoothing back the black hair with one hand. "This will knock those bobby socks right off her feet!"

Laughing with a mischievous gleam in his eye, De Brabant playfully swatted him on the stomach. "Maybe it's just from staying off all those jelly donuts and souvlaki lunches, Schanke," he kidded . God, it was good to see him again!

Taking hold of an arm, Schanke pulled him a little aside.

"Listen, Nick," Don practically whispered as he confided: "I wanted to tell you that... you know, it's okay---you're not telling me about.." he made fangs with his fingers. "This angel compadré... Adam? He explained to me all about the Code thing of yours---that you were just protecting me from these Enforcer guys." The former detective's eyes misted over. "And he told me what you tried to do for Myra and Jenny after I kicked off."

"Schanke.."

"Nick, you're the best friend I ever had, you know? And now you've saved Jenny's life. I can't thank you enough for that alone."

Blue eyes looked apologetic.

"If it hadn't been for me she wouldn't have been in danger in the first place."

"Aw, c'mon, Nick! That's bullshi---er.. I mean.." his friend blushed. "Jeez, but you know, that's the one thing about Heaven that's hard for me---a guy can't adequately express himself anymore."

That got a smile out of his friend.

"I'm sure you'll manage to survive, Schanke," Nicholas grinned, making to depart.

Don shook his finger under De Brabant's nose. "Oh, no---you're not brushing this off and pulling another one of those disappearing acts on me here too. Just you listen up, Nick Knight, or De Brabant, or whatever your real name is. I owe you big time...capiche?"

"Sure, Schanke, I'll remember."

They hugged once more.

"Now I gotta go, pard. Andrew's got someplace to take you. But before you head off to meet the Big Guy, there's someone else you gotta say hello to."

And before Nicholas could say anything, the newly deceased got a sudden 45 degree angle change and a hearty push in towards a lone figure.

The blue eyes went wide. Oh, God---what was he going to say to her!"

"Hi, Nick."

Swallowing hard, he met her halfway.

She was just as lovely as he remembered, with her halo of warm, brown hair and expressive eyes... Dr. Natalie Lambert. His physician. His friend. The one he had denied himself a closer relationship with for six years to protect her from his deadly brand of 'love'.

The last human he had drained of blood.

"Nat."

"Nick.."

"Nat, I.."

They paused, suddenly feeling even more awkward---if that was possible.

Natalie started first.

"Nick I'm so sorry. Can you ever really forgive me for what I did?"

His jaw fell to the floor.

"What _you_ did? Nat, _I'm_ the one who broke your trust.You _died_!"

"Obviously," she smirked, gesturing at their surroundings.

He hung his head in shame. Natalie gave a small smile at that. Nick was still.. Nick. Stubbornly determined to carry the weight of he world on his shoulders. "Only after I practically brow-beat you into it. I'm the one who demanded you drink from me--remember?"

"Because you thought I'd take just a little."

"Stupidly forgetting I'd had you starving yourself of your food---such as it was. Shoot! You were denying yourself way before we ever met---and I just made it worse with my fool theories."

"You couldn't have known," he argued in her defense.

She smacked him in the shoulder, a good solid hit. "For crying out loud... for once, Nick, let someone else take the blame, will you? This rabid martyr syndrome of yours is getting old."

"Nat, please... I betrayed your trust. Your innocence."

"No, Nick! I knew darn well I was taking a chance---you even warned me of that fact a gazillion times. What I did in the loft was blatantly against the laws of scientific study. And _innocence_?" She shook her head. "Oh, Nick... Do you have any idea what I was willing to do to keep you from moving on without me?" When he didn't answer she confessed: "I was even considering letting _Lacroix_ bring me across." Tears spilled from her eyes. "Isn't that sick? You'd become my whole life and I was so desperate to keep you in Toronto--I'd have let that conniving Roman use me to get to you---just so I could be there too/ Innocent! Heck, Nick---I was right up there with Lacroix for knowing how to push your buttons. And _boy_---did I ever start pushing them, right from day one."

"Night one," Nicholas gently corrected.

"Yeah..."

Natalie quietly sobbed as she stared down at her shoes. He patted her on the back, pulling her into a close hug so that she could cry on his shoulder, not paying attention to his own tears mixing with hers.

"W-When I found out you'd asked Lacroix to stake you so that we could be together," she sniffled, "I felt so horrible it took two angels to console me. I never wanted it to end that way. Can you forgive me, Nick?"

"Only if you forgive me at the same time."

"Deal," she wiped her eyes and smiled up at him.

They stood clinging to each other for what seemed a small eternity.

At last Andrew managed to steer his charge back onto the path to the Father's 'throne'. He smiled to himself as he guided the increasingly pensive vampire towards the Outer Holy of Holies. Never before had he been so delayed when escorting someone to God. But then, Andrew mused, never before had Heaven welcomed someone like Nicholas. The Guardians opened the luminescent doors and bade them enter. To Andrew's surprise, Tess and Monica were there waiting for them, as well as Sam and Adam.

And she who was known as 'Courage'.

"Jeanne.. Jeanne de Arc," De Brabant knelt down on both knees before the soul who was still heralded as a heroine in her native France. It was a reverence he shared, for he owed her much in reawakening him to his need to be redeemed.

"Nicholas," she touched his head and smiled. "I see you have lost your curse. Get up. You do not owe me homage."

He shook his head, reverently kissing her hand.

"You planted the seed of faith in my dying soul. I owe you so much more than mere homage, my Lady."

"Only Jehovah deserves such adoration, mon chevalier," she solemnly rebuked him. "If you truly wish to honor me, you will honor Him."

Nodding, Nicholas got back to his feet.

"Before, my Lady, I failed to honor your first request---that I hold up the cross for you to see as you died." He kissed the back of her hand yet again. "I will not fail your second directive. Even if He throws me into the Pit."

She gave a delicate snort.

"Eight hundred years and still so melodramatic, you are, Nicholas. But I think you will find your fears are unfounded. Have faith in the cleansing power of His Love, chevalier. It is stronger than anything."

Tess stepped forward then, accosting him by the arm.

"Now you just mind your P's and Q's in there, Fang Boy, you hear?" Nicholas smiled a little warily at the somewhat bossy angel as she fussed with his clothing and hair, trying to make him look more presentable.

"Yes ma'am," he dutifully replied, catching Andrew's look of amusement out of the corner of his eye.

The male angels traded knowing grins. Of all those who had been involved with this monumental assignment for the full duration, Tess had been the only one with deep reservations about Nicholas' desire to be reunited with the Father. Now you'd think De Brabant was her personal protégé that she was sending in to see the Creator of Everything. Their looks were not lost on the object of their mirth. Tess gave them a quelling glare.

"You boys have a problem?"

Sam, Andrew, and Adam gulped in unison.

"Uh...no."

"Nope."

"None at all."

Tess shook her head.

"Uh, huh."

She finished straightening Nick's collar then shooed him and Andrew to the door that led into the Holy of Holies.

"Go on---you don't want to be late, now."

Nick reluctantly headed for the inner door, nervously wondering what sort of reception lay beyond it. But he had one more delay. Monica rushed forward to give him a chaste peck on the cheek.

"See you later, Nick," she told him, confident eyes asserting that he had nothing to worry about, that there would be a later.

He smiled and kissed her in return, grateful for the indirect vote of confidence. Coming from the one that had feared him the most, the short comment warmed him even more than Jeanne's had. And then the doors opened to a spectacular light and Andrew ushered him inside.


	31. The Decision

Part 31: The Decision

Nicholas blinked.

Somehow, he had never expected the Holy of Holies to look like the long-gone garden of his mortal home, right down to the little bench the village carpenter had made for his mother. Everything looked just as it did before he had been sent away to learn the duties of a Baron's son. It was one of the rare happy times of his life.

He was just about to smell one of the roses when...

_Welcome, Nicholas. Please, take a seat; be comfortable._

That voice again! Whirling, Nicholas glanced frantically about for the speaker, recognized it as the same one that had spoken to him in his dream with the Vampire and then again as he lay dying. Had another of the Community followed him here? No, that was ridiculous... not a vampire. Not here in this sacred place. Another angel? But there was only Andrew standing quietly by the courtyard gate, a rapturous expression on his face.

It dawned on him then just who the speaker truly was and he trembled in awe.

"My God!" De Brabant whispered, falling prostrate onto the ground. His fingers clenched into the fertile 'soil' as if in his moment of panic he was considering digging his way out to avoid His wrath.

A warm sound of soft laughter.

_Yes, my beloved one, I Am addressing you. But please, do get up and take a seat_.

Gulping, De Brabant nervously picked himself off the grass and numbly sat down on the bench, head bowed in a gesture of subservience despite what had been said.

_Some call me Jehovah or Yahweh, but I prefer simply that of your Father---there is no need here for formality between us: a parent and his child. Mine is not the way of your youth, Nicholas. I have no need for unthinking allegiance and demand only that you show me respect---as you should all others. This illusion of your old home is only to help you relax in pleasant surroundings._ Again the friendly chuckle. _Unless you'd prefer floating on clouds and rainbows?_

Self-conscious of his appearance before the Almighty, the knight had raised his hands to brush himself off while God spoke, but found the action unnecessary. Amazingly, the dirt had failed to cling to him after he'd hugged it. Or maybe not so amazing as none of this was physically real. This _was_ Heaven, after all.

Dear Everything! He was in Heaven standing---well, sitting anyway---before the Creator! There were so many questions popping into his mind; however, Nicholas was afraid to speak even one. A glance back to where Andrew was standing revealed that his escort was on the verge of laughter, obviously amused by his friend's reaction to God's greeting and resultant befuddlement.

De Brabant didn't know whether to be embarrassed at his discomfiture or annoyed with Andrew for enjoying it so much.

"Relax, Nicholas," The Angel of Death chuckled. "Unlike your other sire, t_his_ Father won't bite."

"Just fry me with a thunderbolt," Nicholas muttered.

Oh no! Had he actually said that out loud? For a second Nicholas was mortified---he'd insulted God!---but a blanket of warmth surrounded him and he felt himself relax under its touch.

_Nicholas, Nicholas, you confuse me with the fiction of Zeus. I assure you I am much more emotionally sound than that temperamental myth. ...Even if I did create the platypus._

Recalling the consternation that had erupted amongst the stuffy, sanctimonious 'Professors of Scientific Study' when the first European had discovered an egg-laying, duck-billed fur bearer on the island continent of Australia, the corners of Nicholas's mouth couldn't help but twitch upwards.

He had always pictured the Almighty as a mighty monarch whose demand for justice had to be appeased if you fell away from the appointed path. Never had it occurred to him that God might have a sense of fun.

_That's better. I gave you a beautiful smile---it's nice to see it being used at least once a century, _the Father jokingly noted. _Now you have, I'm sure, many questions you'd like to ask after 800-years of pondering my work. Go ahead and ask me one._

Feeling a bit better between God's display of good humor and Andrew's reassuring presence, Nicholas asked the first thing that popped into his head.

"Do you hate me?"

The loving warmth intensified until Nicholas felt his whole being tingle with it.

_Oh, my child, of course not. You are as precious to me as any of my children._

"But I've murdered so many innocent people!"

_And have repented a thousand-times over for each one---do you think I don't know everything you've done? Everything you've thought from the most selfishly vile to the most virtuous sacrifice? I KNOW you, Nicholas de Brabant, better than anyone. Trust that my opinion of your worth to me is sound._ A pause. _None I choose are perfect for none of my Children are. That is what Childhood is—growing from an imperfect state. _

"I didn't mean to imply.." Nicholas began then sighed. Of course he knew he wasn't perfect---far from it. "What happens now?" he asked.

_That depends. You could stay here and spend eternity with Me from this moment on._

Nicholas' eyes lit up with joy at that. He wanted so very much to stay here with Don, Natalie, Alyssa and Jeanne... and he'd yet to see so many of the others---like his mortal family. He had not seen them in so long he could scarce recall their faces.

The joy dissipated rapidly though and De Brabant froze with renewed apprehension. Was he mistaken, or had there been an unspoken 'but' at the end of God's statement?

_Nicholas, my fretful knight---do you still think you are unworthy of this? Do you think that Moses was better? He had a temper to match yours. Patience? That shepherd's cudgel was not just used to walk with. Elijah constantly doubted and feared for his life. Peter had problems with bigotry. I tell you again, none of my servants are perfect._

That was the second time Jehovah had compared him to the prophets and saints and Nicholas was about to ask about that when there came the sounds of growling and demands for someone to be 'quiet'.

_Come in, Miguel, Gregory._

A section of the 'garden' disappeared in a blaze of light as two Warrior Angels came through holding tightly onto golden chains that were attached to a prisoner. Crouched between the two angels and securely bound by the strong restraints was Nick's Vampire.

The humanoid animal's simple clothes were disheveled, its hair in disarray as it snarled and snapped at the two angels holding it captive. Tawny eyes that matched the chains in hue shone with both anger and fear.

Especially fear.

The Vampire howled its misery.

Somehow he had lost the reassuring presence of his Host---the Other having been ripped from him in a mere eye blink. With it had also gone every sense of family or kindred, leaving him utterly alone. Seconds later he'd been left stranded in this overly bright place that effectively blinded him. Where was he? And where was the Host? The Nicholas was needed to make sense of this! Setting out into this new and scary realm, he'd wandered in search of someone he knew, trying to find a scent or sound to follow, but it was useless---there was no scent he recognized---and of sounds there were too much!

Noisy strangers without heartbeats yet not smelling of kin had surrounded him fairly quickly. He'd snarled at them to warn them off, but that had only made them get louder. Their yells made his ears hurt. So he'd tried to lash back to make the noises stop. Unfortunately, they were strong and he was outnumbered. His cries to his pack calling for assistance had still gone unanswered and these strangers had succeeded in taking him captive. That made him angry as well as confused and afraid. Now he just wanted to bite someone---anyone! If they would not let him flee then he would fight!

"Vampire?" Nicholas was stunned at the sight of his long-time counterpart struggling with giant captors. He had not even realized until now that his and the creature's spirits had separated at death, though, indeed, he had long thought that gaining Heaven would automatically mean freedom from his bestial nature But that was before---when he'd considered vampires to be synonymous with evil. Since then he'd not given any new consideration to what would happen after he died.

At the sound of his voice, the Vampire gave a sharp bark of relief and lunged forward towards the knight, the desperation-powered move actually dragging the two angels forward a half step before their combined strength stopped him in his tracks.

"What's going on?" Nicholas asked the fearsome-looking pair, concern overshadowing his awe of the powerful entities. He glared at the angels, voice laden with indignation. "Why is he bound like that?" A lump of dismay knotted in his throat as his mind conjured up its own explanation before the angels could reply. "He isn't welcome in Heaven, is he?" De Brabant breathed as much to himself as to the Warriors. Expression aggrieved, he turned enough to round on Andrew, who was looking just as upset as the knight. "They're going to take him to Hell!" he accused the Angel of Death. The thought made his stomach lurch.

Braving the two angels towering over him, De Brabant strode between them to lay a hand on his doppelgänger's head. Instantly the Vampire calmed and 'looked' up---though it was clear from the nearly non-existent pupils that the humanoid animal could not see anything. It recognized him, though, nose flaring as he twisting to lick the knight's palm before leaning into him, purring in trusting contentment.

He was not alone now---not alone. The Host had come at last; together they would survive.

Nicholas sighed. He had to do something---say something on its behalf. Absently, he let his fingers begin to smooth the errant locks, searching for the right words as he pleaded, "He's not evil or wicked really. You can see that, can't you, Lord Jehovah? Surely there is a place here that he can stay?"

_No, Nicholas, I would not toss him to the Fire, nor does he deserve Hell. However, your companion cannot be left here alone. He would need your influence to contain his volatile nature. I'm afraid that he may have to be consigned to Limbo where he will not harm himself or others._

"Limbo..." Nicholas did not like the sound of that. His religious upbringing taught that Limbo was... well, like waiting room. Dull, boring, waiting until you were allowed into Heaven. But if you were never allowed in?

The garden scene changed to that of a muted landscape where hundreds of people---but most particularly vampires---roamed and concerned themselves with simple activities. None seemed unhappy. However, neither did any express any sense of true joy. After being in the brilliance and eternal song of Heaven, this... _mundaneness _ was downright depressing.

_Limbo is not as you are thinking, Nicholas. It is a realm of quietude_, Jehovah spoke softy. _It is the place for those who are not evil, yet who cannot or will not tolerate Heaven. He will be with others of his kind who've passed before. Those and their 'Host's who are neither wicked enough for damnation nor able to abide My Presence._

Nicholas watched the vampires---or to be strictly accurate---the Vampires and their Human Hosts living together in mutual companionship, ignoring the regular humans as they, in kind, were ignored. Could he leave his Vampire here while he reveled in the presence of Glory?

No... He couldn't. How could he possibly be happy when a loved one was... not?

"But it wouldn't be the same for him," Nicholas argued searching for some loophole to this situation. "He'd still feel alone without my being here with him." He looked up---as good a direction as any for 'facing' God. "I can watch over him," Nicholas volunteered.

_For what amounts to near eternity?_ came the sympathetic reply. _He would never change, Nicholas---not for millennium. Humans in Limbo have some opportunity to change, but Vampires..? They are more set in their ways, my child. Only on Earth with its 'active' environment is there the possibility of growth._

De Brabant hesitated. He wanted to say yes--- that he would accept the role of guardian. But truthfully, the reality of eternity was beyond even his ken. Odds were stacked that at some point he'd fail in his stewardship. He certainly didn't have a great track record with such things. Not only that, but his twin would always be without his sight---rendered blind for as close to forever as made no difference.

What kind of options were these? Unrelenting and unending loneliness or blindness?

Nicholas felt the hot tears fill his eyes.

"Is there no hope then?"

_One. _

"Yes?" Nicholas blinked back his tears. If it could be done, he would attempt it.

_On Earth. The sunrise has not yet touched your body, so it is still a capable vessel. I can send you both back---where you'd continue living as a vampire._

"Oh..." the knight whispered with reluctance, not really wanting to go back now that he was here. Not if it could be helped. "But wouldn't that just be postponing the inevitable? I'd just die again sometime in the future and we would be back to the same dilemma."

_True, you would eventually die once more. But between then and now you could build your relationship with this Vampire so that when you returned, you and he would be as One in mind and temperament. There would be neither Nicholas nor Vampire natures contending with each other---but something truly special... a blending of both._

"Symbiotic," Nicholas swallowed at the idea of being eternally intertwined with this hedonistic animal. Sure he cared about its fate, but...

"It _is_ a risk, my friend.," Andrew spoke up, seeing his friend's hesitation. "If you agree to go back with him then he would evolve with you. In effect the Vampire is now the unruly toddler to your teenager. Both matured together each would be greater than either is separately. But only if you remain dominant." He placed a cautioning hand on de Brabant's shoulder. "Let your Beast take control, and you would both descend into pure animalism."

"A winner takes all, loser goes to Hell proposition.." Nicholas breathed.

_Yes, my child. But you are forgetting that there is even more at stake. ...Your kindred on Earth._

Nicholas stiffened.

"What about them?"

_The Night People have never learned to hear me---a rare enough thing for the Day People. You were the only one, Nicholas. The longer I go unknown to them, the more end up in Limbo or worse._ He wrapped his Love around the knight. _If you go back, you could teach them of Me. Give them the opportunity to change. To grow as well._

Limbo... Jehovah was saying that all of his friends from Aristotle to Merlin would end up in that silent place... being content with themselves, but never gaining anything more. Never knowing the fullness of Heaven. Of this Peace.

De Brabant wrapped himself in the Love and the music like it was a shielding cloak protecting him from a bitter rain.

Oh, but he did not want to leave this! Yet how could he let his inaction condemn the others to that which he feared himself? And Lacroix? Left alone to mourn his son, would his sire even make it to Limbo? Nicholas had never realized it before, but now his spirit knew that his presence in the older vampire's life had actually had a quelling effect on the Roman's penchant for violence. As bad as it had been at times, it could have been much worse. That incident on the train with Corporal Adolf Hitler came to mind. If he had not been there to gainsay the move, Lacroix would have brought that one across.

He did not want to go back to Earth and play at being a Moses.

But he _had_ to go, didn't he?

Decision nearly made, Nicholas asked, "What must I do? How will I be able to help guide them as you say?"

_Merely listen for Me. I will tell you what to say and to whom. _

"No 'going to Africa'? No preacher's tents or revivals?" Nicholas' voice nearly cracked with nervousness. He really did value his privacy and had no desire to be an evangelist. And going from past history, saints and prophets never fared well under the public eye until many years after they'd been crucified, staked, immolated, hung, stoned...

God chuckled. _No, Nicholas, I will bring those open to hear about Me to you. You may stay or go wherever you wish. All that is required is that you remain open to hear when I speak to you._

"Oh," Nicholas couldn't help the deep sigh of relief that escaped his lips.

_I will always love you no matter what you decide, Nicholas. But I must have your decision now._

Reaching to hold his Vampire close, Nicholas smiled a little woefully. "Just don't lose our luggage on the way down?"

Heavenly laughter came from the Holy of Holies as Andrew laid his hand on the knight's shoulders.

And Nicholas de Brabant with Vampire disappeared from Heaven...

tbc

A/N: I had the most horrible time trying to figure out how to address Nick's Vampire half... 'he' or 'it' and or a combo of both and when? After messing around awhile, I decided to just chuck the question and get this posted before you all despaired of me. Oh, and I forgot to count the epilogue chapter so this story is actually 33 and not 32 in total.

Reading what I've written so far, I can only hope I haven't offended the Almighty by putting words in his mouth---especially ones I don't think He'd agree with. cough Well, if you read in the papers that someone in the U.S. got fried by lightning... don't expect post #32 anytime soon.


	32. Weeping & Gnashing Of Teeth

Part: 32: Weeping & Gnashing Of Teeth

The atmosphere within the Raven was as subdued as Aristotle had ever seen it; the battered remains of the fighting force that had gone out just that evening was now back within the safety of their haven and drinking heavily from the stock at the bar.

Outside, the sky was beginning to brighten as the sun approached the horizon. Hanging around the fringes of the dance floor and stage, the younger fledglings who had been unable to find other shelter for the day spoke amongst themselves in hushed tones, trying to glean just what had happened overnight that had the 'adults' in such a state of shock. Within the quarter hour, Aristotle's ears began to pick up whispered comments featuring De Brabant's name circulating through their ranks. Gossip was not only a predilection of the humans, the Greek mused as he listened in on a motely group of four sitting at a nearby table.

"The _cow_ drinker?" one leather-jacketed 'tough' scoffed to his peers, both accent and attire suggesting an American military type or a wannabe. "No loss there."

"Lady seems to think so," a former hippie countered with a sad sigh. "Man, I haven't seen her smile since they got back---she's on a downer."

"Well, if you ask me, its about time she had a better suitor," their Sudanese friend suggested. "Someone strong... worthy."

The former WWI pilot made a face at that, snorting in agreement. "Absolutely, he acted like a carouche-wannabe. Disgusting! Why are they upset about an animal imbiber biting the dust?"

"Chill it, dudes lest ya want to be eating wood pulp fer dinner---the General is like, way upset. Even the Lady won't go near him. And did ya feel the weird vibes last night? Pure freaking, it was!"

The Sudanese lowered his voice. "I heard tell the Enforcers and Elder warred."

"Huh," the pilot snorted in disdain, ignoring the hint. "Wouldn't doubt it. Stupid cow drinker probably almost exposed us all again. Mad as the Hatter. Should have been put down a long time ago."

An older vampire from the next table felt compelled to warn his neighbors.

"Sssh! The Pretty One's friends hears ya trash tha' one and ya'll find ya'selves a'windsurfin'---at _noon_."

"Maybe," the pilot shrugged. "But its s'truth. De Brabant was a freak."

Scowling, Aristotle was about to go over and offer to personally kick the leather-clad infant outside in Lucien's name. However, before he made it over there he thought better off it. Nicholas, after all, would have shrugged off the remarks as unworthy of his ire.

Or more like he deserved them.

Nicholas... Aristotle felt his heart clench. The young ones could be straightened out later if Janette wished; he and the General had something more important that needed to be done: vampires couldn't very well turn over their dead to the local mortuary.

Foregoing the expensive crystal goblet he'd been given by his fellow Greek, the philosopher took a swig straight from the bottle he had been nursing and procured another from Miklos before heading upstairs. Tentatively, he knocked on the door molding of Lacroix's living space and waited, even though the door was wide open and he could plainly see inside the main area and into part of the bedroom. It was there that the inanimate husk was now, the Elder having laid out the body of his son on his own bed.

"Lacroix? The sun is about ready to show. If we do not do it now, it will have to be done from inside rather than from on the roof." He did not add that it would have been even easier to have simply left Nicholas' remains in the park for the sun to obliterate. So much neater and more fitting to let the morning breeze lift the ashes away and spread them around Toronto. Nicholas would have liked that... the knight had loved this city. But Lacroix had been adamant on bringing him home to the Raven. Was he now going to prove just as stubborn about leaving him on the roof?

"Go away," a surly voice wearily commanded. But there was no real conviction behind the command.

Sighing, Aristotle chose to ignore the directive by stepping inside and moving to the bedroom doorway. Enough was enough. It was borderline madness not to dispose of the corpse as quickly as possible lest mortals stumble across it.

Still as a gargoyle statue on Notre Dame, Lacroix was kneeling over the bed as if in a prayer vigil over the ravaged body of his son; the General's clothes were still stained with the drying blood that now soiled the bed linens.

None of the brightest scarlet was from Nicholas's remains.

Lacroix, Aristotle surmised, had apparently tried to feed his son again just as he had in the park. But you couldn't feed a vampire past the True Death. Nicholas was gone. Just the physical remains waiting for the touch of the sun. Waiting for the grieving parent to be turn them loose.

The philosopher shuddered as he thought on the revelation that Lucius had not only tried to kill Divia, but had interned her body as well. Despite all his past radio broadcasts aimed at Nicholas on the theme, the General certainly seemed to have his own issues when it came to letting go.

Aristotle proffered the unopened bottle of 'Special Reserve'. "I have something for you."

The once proud voice of the General was flat, uncaring as he lifelessly quipped, "They say to beware Greeks bearing gifts.."

Aristotle snorted. "Wise words, but be that as it may..." he raised the bottle "this is actually from DuCharme. She thought you might want it."

"I want nothing. I _need_ nothing. Nothing that can be given back to me. Leave us."

The pain-laden voice of the Roman made Aristotle pause.

"You still have Janette, you know. It's not fair to her to make her worry about you on top of her own mourning."

Silence.

"Lucien... if it is any consolation, what I saw in Andrew's blood.." Aristotle set the bottle down on the end table pretending he hadn't seen the bereft master noticeably twitch at the angel's name, "it was beyond words. I think Nicholas must be very happy right now."

"He should have been happy with me!" Lacroix growled at the him, fists clenched in rage. "I gave him everything... centuries of life, a lover, power.. my leadership.. my eternal protec.." the last word stuck in the Ancient's throat and nearly choked him.

The Greek removed his glasses in order to rub the area above the bridge of his nose.

Stubborn. Unchanging. The consummate predator. Thousands of years of attained perfection. Or were they just stagnant? Had Nicholas' wanting to step back actually been an unconscious desire to go forward?

Sometimes philosophy could give one a headache, Aristotle decided.

"But those things," he cautiously pointed out, "were not what he ultimately wanted."

"He did then."

The philosopher softly countered, "Yes, but Nicholas changed... he evolved." Aristotle frowned, again struck by the intriguing thought that a vampire could grow in more than age induced power.

Lacroix glared at him with eyes just as red from grief as from his Beast's ire before returning his contemplation to the body.

"Vampires" the Roman snarled, each word dripping with sarcasm, "aren't supposed to _evolve_. We are already at the pinnacle. He was my son. He should always have been _mine_--at my side!" Raspy intake of breath. "My eternal companion. My magnificent protégé... my Nicholas.. . Damn them all, Aristotle," the Elder raged standing up to hiss in the other's face, "I don't want pity or platitudes! I want my son back!"

"I..I'm... h-h-ere."

Lacroix's and Aristotle's eyes widened like barnyard owls' as the slurred voice spoke up from the 'corpse'.

"Nicholas!"

Sir Nicholas de Brabant, newly returned from the dead---again---smiled weakly at them from the bloody bed.

"H-hun..gr..y.."

Faster than a human eye could follow, Lacroix was sitting on the mattress, the Brabantian's sagging body propped against his chest. A swift slash of his fangs had his wrist artery severed and he thrust it before the knight's mouth. Ice-blue eyes glowed with pride and joy as twin fangs sunk into the torn flesh and sucked away his offering with all the need of a ravenous newborn.

"Oui, mon fils---drink, take what you need. Mon chevalier, mon ami---drink...drink.."

Grinning like a fool, Aristotle decided to discard proper etiquette and used his own fangs to rip out the cork of the Special Reserve. Wordlessly, he passed the bottle of blood to the sire, who accepted it graciously, his lips never ceasing in their litany of encouraging endearments to the one suckling at his wrist save for the split second needed to hurriedly down the food.

The Greek was contemplating running down to the cellar to get more when Nicholas pulled his teeth from the General and fastidiously licked the ragged wound closed. Already the criss-crossed slashes from J'ranor's malicious embrace were fading. Soon, the Brabantian would look good as new.

But was the rest of him healed as well? Aristotle could see the Roman's face silently asking the same question--- dreading the thought of having to have Merlin replace the restraints on his child.

"Nicholas? How do you feel?" Lacroix murmured as his fingers gently carded through the golden hair. The angelic face of his favorite became thoughtful. He twisted to regard the one who was friend, foe, and sire all wrapped up in one.

"Sad. Happy. Peaceful."

"Peaceful?" Lacroix asked, wishing he didn't sound so skeptical.

His son nodded, smiling a wistful smile.

"I talked with Natalie.. with a lot of people, actually... We've reconciled the past." he closed his eyes and snuggled back into Lacroix's chest, letting his head rest on the Elder's shoulder. "I still regret my mistakes with the humans, father... and those I made with you. I'll always regret them. But the wounds are healing. I can let them heal now."

Lacroix held him tighter.

"That's good to hear, my son," the Roman breathed. Then out of long habit could not resist the dig, "I told you centuries ago that guilt was doing you no good."

"Mmm..." His favorite chuckled softly, eyelids drooping. "I thought you'd appreciate my return just so you'd be able to say, 'I told you so'."

Nicholas yawned. Even with his sire's blood filling his veins, the rising sun outside was making him feel very sleepy. It would be a while before he was back up to par and able to move out of the Raven's rooms. Assuming he'd still want to. He felt secure here and felt in no particular hurry to leave.

"Lacroix?"

"Yes, Nicholas?"

Giving in to the exhaustion, (at least it wasn't from Hunger this time, he thought bemusedly), Nicholas let himself slide down until he was laying curled beside the Roman with his head resting in his lap. Reveling in the feel of fingers moving through his hair---fingers that could easily rip his skull off, yet were gently massaging it instead. He let the Vampire within purr, secretly smiling at what his sire must be thinking---he hadn't let himself express pleasure at his master's touch for a terribly long time---let alone willingly allowed himself to be groomed like this.

"Yes, father... I've accepted that too. I won't kill--" he asserted, opening his eyes so that Lacroix could see his determination in that regard, "but I am a vampire. I'll always be a vampire." He decided not to add just then that he'd be a vampire 'representative for God'. No sense in rekindling the fireworks early. Lacroix would like as not find out about that soon enough. He never had been able to keep secrets from his elder for very long.

Nicholas fervently prayed his sire would understand his mission... and hopefully, eventually, the meaning of it. Right now at least, he was loathe to restart their on again/off again battle of wills---which was what would happen if (_If?_ _Ha!_) Lacroix protested his son's newest 'crusade'. For now, though, he would sleep. Tomorrow night would be busy as the Community welcomed his return. This time he'd come as a full member and not just as Lacroix's prodigal son.

Then, come hell or high water---(Oh, he was going to have to strike that particular expression from his repertoire!)---a certain Miss Jenny Schanke was going to be taken on a trip to a mall that did _not_ feature any Goth-style apparel; with a side-trip to a good florist acquaintance of Felik's for a bouquet. Myra would appreciate the flowers. And the two round-trip tickets to Miami that he'd slip in the card. She and Jenny needed to spend some time together in the sun, have fun at that amusement park, and start reforging their relationship instead of being cooped up this winter separately bemoaning the past.

Mmmm... Don would want them to have fun on the beach as well. He'd have to remember to include women's swim wear shopping at the mall. Hopefully, Jenny would know what size and style to get for her mom.

After that? Well, he had his very first 'assignment' already waiting for him, didn't he?

For a second Nicholas let his gaze lock with the hungry look in Aristotle's---a hunger that had nothing to do with the blood lust. Their was a whispered acknowledgment in his mind that the Greek would be one of his first pupils.

De Brabant purred louder, lips curving into a deeper smile of contentment.

Oh, yes.

He was going to be very busy.

And very, very...

Not alone.

o

TBC

A/N: There is a short epilogue to follow within a day or so (and it _will_ have the Angel Crew in it unlike this post).

Grothekl, you brought up some interesting ideas. In the show, Nicholas was already able to tolerate holding some holy objects (better than others at any rate) because of either his abstainance from drinking human blood (Natalie's hypothesis) or plain remorse for having killed in the past. I think that Nick will eventually attain those things you wrote of, but gradually, as his faith and obediance to God grows. Remember that even the Apostle Paul complained of various physical ailments... wishing to follow the Father does not automatically mean everything will be wine and roses. Old habits die hard and physical damage needs time and faithfullness to the new way in order for new health to emerge. If Nick keeps listening to the Father and following His advice he will gain those 'health benefits'. It just won't happen overnight.

I want to thank all my reviewers for their encouragement. It's always a boost to the ego to get a rave review! lol. However, a special thank you to the reviewer (long gone, I think) who thoughtfully pointed out in the first three chapters that I was really overdoing the exclamation points. She/he was correct and the hint to tone down the hystronics was very much appreciated.

Well... hey, it's been a blast. (And a chore, but we'll overlook that now as the glow of finishing this is currently waxing strong, grin)


	33. The Dancers Pause: an epilogue

Part 33: The Dancers Pause: an epilogue

Two weeks later...

Humming an old French carol as he exited out the doorway of a bookstore, Nicholas spied the red Cadillac convertible parked near the curb. He walked over to it with a large smile on his face and ran an appreciative hand over the metal body.

The paint choice was a bit loud for his taste, but...

It was a beaut. Classic lines; well kept. Lovely boot cut in the back tempting him to pop the lid to check it out for fit. You just didn't see great automobiles like this prowling the streets that often anymore---and he should know, the knight thought wistfully. thinking of his own back-finned 'horseless carriage' that Lacroix was still holding hostage against his son's good behavior.

Nicholas de Brabant, knight, vampire and would-be saint sighed in frustrated resignation.

He missed his car and the degree of independence it gave him. Heck---this was the first time since the battle with J'ranor that Lacroix had let him go out alone without an escort. Even his trip with Jenny to the mall had required the presence of his sister, although that had turned out just as well as Janette was so much more knowledgeable about the current fashions for women then he was.

Now---finally!---his sire had permitted him to go out for two hours unattended---with certain restrictions, of course.

Stay downtown. No flying unless an emergency. And no, he could _not_ have his car keys back yet.

Nicholas' mouth quirked into a grin at the ridiculousness of his situation.

Eight-hundred years old---and he was quite literally _grounded_ by his dad. And human teenagers thought they had it tough!

Since learning that his child was quietly talking to others about God, his sire had become even more protective of him than ever. Probably afraid he intended to drive straight to the nearest holy shrine and offer himself as a monk or something, Nicholas chuckled. It wasn't long before the General had started to argue that any such candidates for his 'conversations' be screened in advance---by himself. Nicholas rolled his eyes at the memory. Undoubtedly the man was purposely intimidating those that sought him out in the hopes that his child would quit this newest 'hobby' altogether. What measures Lacroix would take if he knew that his son not only talked about Jehovah, but _with_ him as well? As half of a two-way conversation?

It had started out small---a few short sentences whispered in the quiet. Yesterday, however, Nicholas had managed to hear snatches of His voice even with his attention divided by Aristotle's questions.

His hands absently caressed the car's length as he thought on how blessed he was to be allowed to hear the very tongue of his Creator. God was so... well, delightful to listen to.

_As are you, Nicholas._

De Brabant breathed deeply in pleasure at His regard.

"Hey, Fang Boy! Get your mitts off'a my car!"

Startled by the brusque command coming so hard on the heels of the soft whisper in his mind, Nicholas guiltily snatching his hands away from the Cadillac, looking up to apologize to the owner--- and felt his frown transform into a huge grin of its own accord.

"Andrew! Monica! Tess!" he exclaimed happily, giving each of the three angels a warm hug. "When I awoke and Lacroix said you were gone," he told them, "I feared that that last time was our final goodbye."

"Well, we just came to check on that little cafe down the street," Monica insisted as she pointed back the way they had come. (Actually, the case worker had wanted to celebrate Andrew's return to his normal, daylight-enabled self; however, Monica did not want to offend Nicholas by saying so out loud.) A tiny smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she added, "but this was the closest parking space Tess could find to park her rolling yacht."

Their vampire friend chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't I know it," he agreed, gazing admiringly at the classic auto. "All the new parking spaces are designed for those tiny economy cars and their so-called adequate trunk space. Obviously the people who made that claim never had to sleep back there."

Monica laughed. "You've slept in car trunks?"

"Best emergency daylight refuge I ever had," Nick huffed, pretended to be miffed at her. "Clean. Portable. Believe me,"---he playfully waggled a reproving finger at Monica---if you're a vampire and you ever find yourself out in barren country with dawn just minutes away, you'd gladly take curling up in a nice Caddy trunk anytime over digging yourself a burrow." He grimaced. "Darned damp earth ruined more of my wardrobe back in the Good Ole Days."

"Would you like a lift to wherever you are going, Nicholas?" Monica asked sweetly. She liked this new, cheerful version of De Brabant and sincerely hoped that the worst part of his life was over and done so that he could thoroughly enjoy the rest.

The vampire hesitated for a moment. Lacroix had not specifically said he couldn't accept a ride in a car---just not his own or in a taxi cab.

"As a matter of fact, I would like to go someplace to have this embossed." He tapped the small, wrapped package protruding from his jacket pocket. It was a leather-bound, travel-sized edition of Robert Frost's poems that he'd picked up as a gift for Jenny. "I'm kind of without my own transportation at the moment." He glanced at the car's owner. "If that's alright with you, of course, Madame?"

"Back seat with Andrew, Fang boy," Tess told him with a gesture to the rear of the car. "Unless," she added with an amused twinkle, "you'd be more comfortable riding in the trunk?"

Andrew chuckled as he remembered something he had seen on one of the Raven's computers during his stay there. "And while we're shopping around, Tess can purchase one of those 'Vampire In Trunk' bumper stickers."

"You're kidding!" Monica giggled. "How do you know that they actually sell something like that?"

Andrew grinned sheepishly at the others. "I looked up 'vampire' on the Internet after someone named 'Rosebud' left their connection on," he admitted causing all three of his friends to laugh. "Hey, I was bored and it was _role_ research!" the Angel of Death explained. "Besides, the purchase page for it was marked in the Bookmarks file."

That made De Brabant nearly double-up with laughter. 'Rosebud' was his sire's Net name. The thought of Lacroix ever considering buying such a thing was hysterical. He wondered where his master was even planning to put it. And quickly sobered up at one possibility.

He wouldn't!

Tess was thinking along similar lines, only with a certain Angel of Death rather than a vampire Elder in mind. She glared at her sometimes underling in stern disapproval. "Don't you even _think_ of attaching one of those gluey menaces to my pride and joy, Mr. Halo!"

The angel in question just smiled back in an innocent manner, holding the front passenger door open for Monica to get in.

Tess eyed him speculatively as she slid behind the wheel, shaking her head. Going through the steps of her pre-drive checklist, she looked back through the rear-view mirror as Andrew and Nicholas slid into the back seats, the latter taking extra care of the upholstery as he did so. "So, Nicholas, you still have yours?" Tess asked and inwardly smiled at the answering gleam in De Brabant's eyes. She knew she wouldn't need to clarify the question--- the supervisor saw how much he loved her car.

"Yeah---a seafoam 1962 Eldorado convertible---best one to be had," Nicholas affirmed in the tone of a proud parent at a talent show. He then went into a detailed account of how he'd found his own 'love'.

Glancing at each other, Monica and Andrew let out identical groans of mock despair as their two friends started a friendly but animated debate on whose version of Cadillac was the better.

Oh, no! _Two_ of them!

Andrew reminded her that Patience was a virtue. The angelic couple smiled at each other. It was so good to see their charge finally happy.

Up on the bookstore's roof, a solitary figure in black watched in disapproval as the red car pulled out into the street, heading toward the Harbour Front shopping district. He was about to follow when a white dove suddenly flew into what was to have been his takeoff trajectory. Aborting his plan to keep continuous tabs on his child's activities for the entire time of his 'excursion', Lucien Lacroix turned his head and gazed at the bird that had taken roost on the ledge beside him. He couldn't be sure---was probably just being an idiot for even imagining that this dove was anything more than it appeared---but just in case...

The darned animal _had_ been hanging around him ever since he and Nicholas had re-entered Toronto.

Lacroix graced the avian with a light sneer. "As you wish, my be-feathered shadow, I will grant him his privacy for the rest of the night. However, should Nicholas come to harm while under your 'wing'?" The vampire chuckled nastily. "Well, shall we say--Hell hath no fury like unto mine should that happen."

The dove cooed softly at him as if unaware or unafraid of the threat he had voiced, dipping its head before turning its gaze---in the direction of the Harbor and the receding carload of immortals.

Lacroix shook his head. He _was_ imagining things.

Maybe.

Even so, it was with one flying towards the nightclub and the other towards Toronto's famed shopping haven that the Raven garbed and the snowy Dove ended their dance for the night.

The End

A/N: To those of you who read and enjoyed (or didn't!) and didn't bother to offer comment: May a hundred Vampire Bat Beanie Babies drop on your head from above. Ha!

To Teresita, who mid-way through posting the original version years ago, offered me the services of her spell-checking: THANK YOU!

To Andrew, the Angel of Death who fired my imagination for this:

GIVE ME BACK THOSE FK PROPS, YOU LOUSY ...! Monica is NOT amused and neither am I!

Kyer: Innocent bystander between the Dance of Raven & Dove. Hey!...S'truth!

And thus ends this tale.

Side note: To answer the question on Tracy's absence in Heaven, I posted a note (a looong note) in my Profile. It will remain until I have need to update the Profile info.


End file.
